


Taking sides

by Alexasnow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Beta Read, Eventual Smut, F/M, Red Templars, Suicide, Templars (Dragon Age), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 79,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexasnow/pseuds/Alexasnow
Summary: Bethan finds herself stuck between two different worlds, unsure which one she is living in





	1. It's nice to see you again

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Eureka234 for being my Beta, you're a star.

I was no inquisitor, I had no role of note, I was but a mere soldier, one among many. I was a Templar, the inquisition was unknown to me until my friend Commander Cullen told me of them, he spoke so highly of them, and I knew him to be not one for flights of fancy if he wanted to leave to aid them, they were truly a force for good.

My fellow templar’s seemed intent upon simply blaming the breach on the mage rebellion, I believed there was more to it, it had to be the evil of magic. The inquisition sounded like in mind to me, and I could not sit idle watching this breach tearing the sky asunder, so I joined the inquisition.

When I reached Haven I began training with Cullen. I only wore a basic shirt and trousers against the cold, as like the brisk weather, I did not feel the cold as keenly as others. The dynamic we once shared with the templar order seemed to shift, it was not so well defined, I felt unsure how to act, as I wanted to rib him, but I also wanted to show him respect, so I bit my tongue.

"It kills you to remain silent." He joked as the training exercise drew to a close, and the crowd dispersed.

"I wouldn't say it kills me not to tease you, I respect you too much to bring you down in front of the recruits" I confessed.

"Thank you." He smiled, giving a light nod.

We were about to leave when an elven mage wondered over to us, Cullen’s body language became rigid, he glanced to me, he had the look of an animal caught in a trap. He broke his silence with stumbling shaky words “Herald.” He exclaimed. “This is,” he paused and looked to me as if he had no idea what I was to him, “an old friend, well not old, as she is very” his cheeks flushed. He took a deep breath and began again “This is Bethan. We were both templar’s in Kirkwall, she was by far the best recruit. Her fighting skill is second to none, and her ability to focus in unwavering we are lucky to have her with us.” He turned to me and continued “The Herald is a dalish mage here to aid us to close the breach”

The inquisitor looked amused by Cullen’s sudden bashfulness, where I was confused, I couldn’t tell if it was me or her putting him on edge. I couldn’t recall him acting so anxious in Kirkwall, or maybe my memory betrayed me.

“It is nice to meet you Bethan, that is high praise from our commander, So you were stationed in Kirkwall during the mage rebellion?”

“Yes, it was a nightmare... so many innocents caught in-between, so many templar’s and mages needlessly killed.” I sighed heavily recalling the horror of the bloodshed.

“So where did you stand?” She asked plainly.

“Me?” I exclaimed, wondering why my opinion even mattered.

“Yes, you do not have the look of your fellow templar’s, I have met my fair share, you don’t seem suspicious of me, nor do you have that weary look of the effect of lyrium.”

“Ah well I do not share the urge to oppress mages, I like Cullen see them as people, so they should be treated as such. As for the lyrium, I am seemingly quite immune to the side effects, it runs in my family. And because of this we lived longer than most other templar’s, except for my brother who died in battle.”

Her eyes took on the look of concern, “I am sorry for your loss. And I am glad to hear your stance upon mages, it’s refreshing to know that there are a few good templar’s, your views can’t have earned you many friends.”

“No you’re right it did not, I was seen as a mage lover, but I did not care I will do as my conscience dictates, orders be damned.” I realized after I said it I was talking to the woman in charge, and she may take issue with that. I winced, taking my hand to my forehead, I groaned inwardly.

The Herald laughed, then tried to assure me “You need not worry, I would rather you do what is right than follow orders blindly”

I was glad that she was reasonable, and compassionate. It was also good to know she was not put off by my Templar status. After this introduction, she was called away, she bid us both farewell as we were cut short. I heard someone beating the holy hell out of the training dummies. I wondered over to see who was giving them such a beating, I found a woman grimacing sword in hand. Her hair was short, she was fierce, kind of woman you were glad was on your side. "What has that dummy done to deserve such treatment?"

She seemed startled by my attempt at humor, she must have been so focused on the dummy. She didn't crack a smile, but she had a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Who are you?"

"I am a friend of Cullen's, formerly a Templar, but you can call me Bethan I detest being so formal"

"As do I, I am Cassandra"

"Well Cassandra I think we need dummies made of sterner stuff to withstand such powerful assaults" I grinned.

She finally cracked a smile, "Yes I agree. So what brought you to us?"

"I shared more in common with the inquisitions ideals than that of the Templar’s" I confessed.

"So do you no longer have faith in the order?" She pressed.

"I still have faith, but I feel that more balance in the ranks is needed, and I think here they have that, or from what I have seen so far they do." I felt a little strange having my faith questioned, as I was beginning to question it, but I was not ready to reveal this fact to others, I hadn't even told Cullen.

"You may train with me if you like, it would be better to have something that fights back" she offered with the hint of smile.

"I warn you I am much tougher than I look" I joked. As I recalled too many had underestimated me in the past, I looked sweet and gentle until you put a sword in my hand.

"I imagine so, I look forward to sparring with you" she said before she continued to mangle the broke dummy.

I wonder back over to Cullen who was looking at a report, so I hung back. He glanced over the board and saw me lingering. "Do you need me to give you something to do Bethan?" He gave a wry smile.

"Yes I am rather at a loss here. And may I ask what that awkwardness was about earlier?" I mused.

"Ah, well I am unsure, well I don't quite..." he paused, taking a hand to his neck rubbing the skin in a nervous manner.

After a tense silence, I pressed "Cullen?"

"I have a lot of work to do, so if you could go and check on provisions with our requisitions officer." He turned his back to me and slunk away, leaving me confused and mildly insulted.

I didn't feel like pushing him, but it was the first time there was something we were both not telling each other, it felt a little sad. He had often confided in me, he had told me one night of the hell he had suffered in the circle. He did not go into detail and I did not need him to, I was honored that he felt safe enough to tell me, I treated this confession with reverence and respect it deserved. He had been the one to help me with my grief when my brother died.

I began to make my way toward the requisitions officer, looking around at others who had been drawn here, everyone looked busy; all of us wanted something to draw our eyes from the sky. I overheard the chatter about the choice to made by the Herald, turn to the mages for aid would lose us the Templar’s, and in turn the mages would turn their backs upon allies of the Templar’s, the conclave had shown us that compromise was not an option, both sides blaming the other. Both sides to bitter, and stubborn to see that we needed to work together to save Thedas, but that was a foolish idealistic notion.

I rounded to find the requisitions officer in her tent; she was leafing through pages with her brow furrowed. "Can I help?"

She turned her eyes dull from constant focus. Her face obscured by a hat that wrapped around itself. "Not unless you have iron stores hidden somewhere, but you are not covered, are you not cold?" she exclaimed.

“No, always loved winter. We don’t feel the cold in my family.” I smiled widely recalling how everyone would look at us like our minds were gone when we didn’t wear layers, but we still needed something.  
The requisitions officer gave a weak smile before returning to her frustrations.

I left her to it, making my way back outside, taking a pickaxe from the blacksmiths; they were all too busy to question me. I had good instincts, so finding iron to mine was easy, extracting it was not. My arms ached after I broke the metal free, the sweat matted my hair to my face. And now I had lumps of iron ore and no way to carry them. So I used the only thing to hand, pulling off my shirt in this cold was not wise even given my ability to handle the cold, but it would give me a way to carry them.

I must have been a sight grimy, and sweat covered, iron ore slung over my shoulder, half naked bracing against the cold. My shirt held out, I dropped the iron beside the poor requisitions officer, her cheeks flushed when she looked to me. "This enough." I exhaled.

She nodded. Glad to be free of the weight, pulling back on my tattered stretched shirt, which now looked ridiculous. I felt the chill in the air rush over me; I began to rub my aching arms for warmth. Upon seeing this the requisition officer added "Thank you. I will get you a coat of some kind. And next time ask me for a crate to carry supplies, we have plenty."

Her tent was in such disarray that she couldn’t find anything, so she disappeared for a time returning with something draped over her arm, I couldn't tell what it was until she drew closer, it was Cullen's, I would know that fur pauldron anywhere. She passed it me, I felt awkward taking it as he had not made such a gallant gesture in some time. It was just as awkward to don it, but I couldn't deny how warm it was, and how it smelt of him. This was a comfort; I felt a small measure of guilt hoping he was warm enough, but the idea of going to speak to him was now something that required a second thought.

So instead I aided in gathering elfroot for the healers, and mages. The mages eyed me wearily, but they were civil. Word must travel fast here I thought to myself. I passed the inquisitor who was just leaving the chantry, her advisors in step behind her, Cullen one of them, they were organizing ways to infiltrate a fortress. Cullen gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. The inquisitor looked set, and ready to move, she must have made up her mind, I got the sense from Cullen's expression she had chosen the mages against his advice.

She left giving a nod to her advisors. Upon seeing me she gave a wry grin to me, I wasn't sure what that was about, then I realized how wearing Cullen's vestment must look, my cheeks warmed. I wondered over to him feeling awkward, the women beside him did nothing to dispel my discomfort as the red hair woman declared "I did not know it came off I thought it was attached to you permanently" she teased a hint of accent in her voice.

"Oh how gallant of you commander" the second woman purred, her Antivan accent obvious in every word spoken.

He didn't respond, he just raised his eyebrow and glared until they stated "ah you want a moment alone, say no more" they winked.

They had left us both feeling more awkward. I had had such a crush upon Cullen when I first met him, but as my commanding officer it would have been frowned upon, so I didn’t risk it, after all he was a man who followed the rules, well most of them. I had pushed those feelings aside for so long, it was strange to feel them resurface as if no time had passed. I couldn't think of what to say, so I pulled the vest up over my head, catching my shirt in the process, more or less flashing Cullen.

"I thought you might want this back." I stammered. Missing its warmth and smell already.

I looked up only for a moment to see his cheeks ruddy, and his eyes looking anywhere but at me. "No if you're still cold you can hold on to it" he added awkwardly.

"No I am okay now, thank you." I stated hastily. "I am sorry if it smells a little I was working in it, sorry."

"Smells of you, it's nice" he mused.

His entire face was red; he had not intended to say it aloud. He took his vestment from me and disappeared back into the chantry.

I recalled the first time I saw him beyond my role as a templar, and I could recall a similar awkwardness on his part. When he was my commander he was confident and assured, but when he stepped out of that role for the first time, he stumbled over his words and got flustered so often I felt for him. It had been that long ago I had forgotten until this moment cued the memory to come to the fore.

Cullen stepped back out. When he noticed me still standing there, he fell into the more comfortable role as my commander.

"We need to prepare for when the inquisitor returns. Organize the templar’s for me, so should the mages fail we have enough Templar’s to back us up" He ordered.

I knew that confident and assured tone was when he was in charge, and that was necessary for what was to come, it was a welcome distraction for both of us. But I wondered would the Templar’s gathered here recognize my rank, as I was so used to my fellow Templar’s looking down upon me if at all. I steeled my nerves, finding that peace within; it was easy when I looked up to the growing tear in the sky, recalling what was at stake.

Before I took to the task at hand I purchased armor from the blacksmith, it was alike to my Templar armor but it did not bare their symbol. I kept my Templar vestments hidden in my tent as I was not ready to let go of them, my faith was shaken not lost. I donned my new armor with the same pride I had once felt upon wearing the chest plate emblazoned with the Templar symbol, I had believed in what we stood for then, now I wasn’t so sure, and the mage rebellion had only made the foundations seem weaker.

So I rounded my fellow Templar’s, thankful that none of them were from Kirkwall. This was my first introduction to them as no one had had the time to introduce me to all of those who had come to Haven. They were from Redcliffe village, they seemed friendly enough. They glared at my armor, but they held back their judgment.

I advised them that this was just if we were needed, some seemed to believe that the mages failure was a given, but there were for the first time in a long time there were Templar’s of a similar mind to me. We hoped the mages would succeed, and hoped the alliance wouldn't be adversarial, so there were more idealists left in this world than I realized, it was a comforting thought. We lay in wait for the inquisitor to return, holding our breaths collectively.


	2. From Haven to Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan agrees to take on a role she never imagined

There was an influx of mages to Haven after the Herald had gained their alliance, and they eyed us warily, I could not blame them, a mass of templar’s together must have reminded them of their oppressors. The Herald did not return with all the mages, we heard second hand that she had taken a select group of them with her and continued straight to the breach. So we continued to wait, ready should we be needed.

We soon saw the breach began to dispel before our eyes. That meant that the Herald and the mages had managed close it, it was a miraculous feat.

I left my fellow templar’s after a few enthused embraces; even though we had barely known each other for more than a few hours we were caught in joy of the moment. We were all relieved that the breach was dealt with now we hoped to move forward from there, it was not over by any means. It was moments like these when I felt the need for solitude; as I had grown accustomed to my own company.

  
I began to walk through the camp there was an uneasy civility holding between mages and templar’s. It was not new to me being friendly with mages, I was not like my fellow Templar’s. My stance with mages made me unpopular among my fellow Templar’s in Kirkwall especially because I had no issue with reporting their misdeeds to Meredith. She soon got frustrated with my constant reports, and she did not share my view on mages.  
My fellow Templars tried to make my time in Kirkwall difficult, hoping to drive me from the city, but my faith gave me strength. The fact that lyrium did not affect me like it did them, made me swifter, so I saw any prank or punch thrown in frustration, always evading them, which only infuriated them further. The only reason my Meredith tolerated me is because I could talk most mages down from rash action, just by showing them genuine compassion that other Templar’s had long forgotten, I knew they were afraid, and I actually listened to them. And it didn’t hurt that I was a skilled fighter, self-taught through necessity, and my skill was honed as part of my Templar training. Had she lived I know she would not have been sad to see me go, my fellow templar’s had no trouble showing how enthused they were to see the back of me. The rebellion solidified their hate of mages; it had made me question my faith.

  
We were celebrating the closing of the breach, well most were. I was not joining in the festivities, I merely observed. I felt uneasy as I knew this was not over, there was always more to come, this was the eye of the storm, this was the same way I had felt in Kirkwall after the qunari attack, I knew there was more. As if in answer to my fears I was proven right again, always proven right when I didn’t want to be.

A massive force was approaching, I was ready for battle. I passed my fellow Templar’s as I made my way to the gate. I overheard them exclaim “No. It can’t be.”

“Yes. They said it is Templar’s attacking the village. Must be because of the mages.”

They continued to desperately rationalize. I found to hear that it was Templar’s leading the assault was shocking and unnerving. I would be raising my blade to my fellow Templar something I had only had to do once before. It took me back to a memory I had not recalled in sometime.

* * *

 

_I was on wondering Kirkwall when I heard a scream. I rushed toward what I had thought was an abandoned warehouse. I was infuriated to see fellow Templar’s standing on guard outside. “You can’t tell me you did not hear that.” I seethed._

_“No. Whatever are you talking about?” They taunted. Not caring for what was occurring beyond that door, or worse they were in on it. You could tell by their sway that they had been drinking._

_I stepped forward. “Look. Sweetheart this doesn’t concern you so back off, just pretend you didn’t hear it, walk away.” He warned._

_“You know I can’t do that.”_

_“I warned you.” He took an unsteady fighting stance while the second kept guard._

_I had to get passed them both and stop whatever was going on. I had one thing they did not speed, and co-ordination given their level of inebriation. I maneuvered passed them. I was thankful to find the door moved with little force._

_I found a male Templar was trying to force himself on a poor young male mage; the mage was cornered and terrified. I_ leapt _to his defense; it boiled my blood to know this went on._

_I roared across the warehouse “Back off now.”_

_He swiftly turned on me; barely holding his footing, he looked annoyed by my presence. “Who let this bitch in?” He glowered to his friends who had followed in behind me._

_“Come on mate you told us the mage was up for some fun, you just needed a quiet place.” One of his friends tried to reason with him._

_But he was having none of this; he turned back to the mage. “No. Been eyeing this one. For some time.”_

_The mage’s shaky hands burst free unsteady flame, which the Templar extinguished but not swiftly enough to avoid mild burns. He gritted his teeth. “You all saw that, he attacked me.” He cried. “You will pay for that.” He grumbled._

_“We aren’t getting involved in this, you’re twisted.” His friends called as they abandoned him, me and the mage to this drunken lout._

_I took between him and the mage. I was forced to draw my blade, and even then he did not stop his advance._

_I sliced his hand as a warning, but he just laughed and continued to walk toward me hoping to get at the poor mage cowering behind me. He drew his blade; I attempted to reason with him. “Look even your friends know this is madness, take a step back. Go home sleep it off.”_

_But he would not hear me. He left his flank unprotected I pushed under the breastplate, cutting deeper than I had intended. I had meant to graze him, anything to bring the fool to his senses, but the blade was caught and the force had pushed it so deep I feared to pull it free. He staggered back. “Maker what have I done.” I gasped._

_He was not of clear mind when he pulled the sword free. He dropped to_ ground _with a sickening thud, he bled out swiftly._

_I panicked. I grabbed the mages hand and returned him to the gallows at speed. As we rushed back the mage pressed “I will do whatever you want.” He seemed to think I had an ulterior motive._

_“What?” I remarked absentmindedly more focused on getting him to safety, and then maker knows what._

_“You wanted me for yourself did you not?” He squeaked timidly._

_“No. I just want you safe.” I stated tentatively._

_I left the mage in the gallows confused. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I ran to Cullen, gasping for breath. He would help me. He would understand._

_“I have made a terrible_ mistake. _” I confessed as I barged into his office._

_The whole event had been rather unnerving for all involved._

* * *

 

A crash beyond the gate brought me back to the current moment, it felt like an age had passed, but it had been a mere flash.

Cullen looked to me and the Templar’s who had followed in my wake. “Templar’s you will be facing down those you once called brother, but we must defend Haven, and protect the innocent from harm. This is our duty.”

I merely nodded. I was given a sword and shield, and then I followed the Heralds lead, her companions a smart talking female elf, a large male Qunari, and aloof mage dressed like a lady of standing from Orlais. They worked well as a team, dispatching the red Templar’s with blade, arrow, fire and ice. I had always marveled at the power mages could wield, with a mild envy.

My eyes widened, as the Templar’s that swarmed toward us were like none I had ever encountered, beastly inhuman things, twisted and mutated with rocks protruding through their skin, they were difficult to take down. 'What had happened to these Templar’s to make them like this?'

These beasts managed to be more frightening than what I had seen Meredith had become, I didn’t think that it could get worse. The strange strangled cries of the red Templar beasts rung in my ears as my blade found the mark despite the mutations, I cut deep. The extra cover we provided allowed them time to fire the first trebuchet, the second one did not seem to be working, so we made our way over.

We all provided cover to the female elf while she aimed the trebuchet. I never thought I would be fighting side by side with a Qunari after the mess in Kirkwall. More of these deformed red Templar’s that had once been men charged at us, their skin seemed to undulate as if their skin couldn’t contain the lyruim beneath. They sounded as though they were in constant pain, so I justified cutting them down with an end to their obvious suffering, I didn't care if it was true it took the edge off the pain. When we thought we had a short respite a behemoth that was more lyrium than man hulked over toward us.

"What the..." I exclaimed to myself.

It was truly a shocking sight, who would do such a thing to these men. It swung its weighed arm at us missing me by inches, the qunari beside me was not so lucky, it knocked him back. I didn't think I just charged over to where he had staggered, I found him caught in wooden framing. This would be an amusing sight were it not for the imminent danger. I dragged him free "Thanks." He said as he straightening up.  
Both of us rushed back and protect the archer as the mages shield was slowing falling around her. The Herald was doing all she could to deter the beast, but it was set upon the elf. The qunari swung a battleaxe at its fracturing leg, forcing it to tumble to ground, where we finished the job, we broke the lyrium until we could see enough to place a blade through, ending its miserable existence. He helped me down from the beast "Good teamwork. I didn't get your name?" He rumbled in a deep gravelly voice.

"Bethan. And you are?" I asked through strained breaths.

"Iron bull." he declared.

"Ah is that because of the horns or your ability to charge down monsters, that was quite a swing." I strained.

"I guess you could say that." He laughed to himself.

The smiles and cheer did not last as an almighty roar filled our ears, a stream of fire reigned down. We all rushed back, the trebuchet was now in ruins, and burning to cinders fast. I looked to the sky to the see the huge dragon sail overhead, I couldn't take my eyes off it, and I didn't until someone pulled at my shoulder. It was the Herald "Come on." she called.

I did not need to be told twice falling in line with the rest of the group rushing back to Haven; Cullen was holding the gate open.

“To the chantry, it’s the only place that might stand against that, thing.”

The sight of Haven in ruins was difficult to see, it reminded me of the chaos that followed the qunari attack, and mage rebellion in Kirkwall.

I did not follow Cullen I turned to the Herald and said "You will need an extra pair of hands to aid you in finding anyone left alive."

She nodded. We circled the town saving any caught in the wake of the dragon’s destruction. The smell of charred flesh was sickening. My vision was marred by the smoke billowing. I may not feel the cold but I could feel the heat of the flames, my templar abilites could only hold back the fire for so long, long enough I hoped. I managed to barged down obstructed doors, dragging another person out to safety. While the Herald and her companions held back the red Templar’s skulking around.  
I approached another house that was slowly being taken by flame. I couldn’t get the door open. The screams were becoming strangled coughs, I had to get inside. I used my shield to smash open the door. A woman lay upon the ground. “Help me.” She strained her voice hoarse from the smoke.

I took to her side. “Are you ready?” I pressed as I held my shield up to block the debris.

She nodded. I took my arm under hers and dragged her up. I held my shield up to hold back the flames. We barely made it outside when the roof caved in behind us.

“Get to the chantry, you will be safe there. They can tend to you.”

Two people was not enough; I had heard more than one cry. I rushed over to find two injured people writhing upon the ground, the speed of the flames gave me little choice. Both called for my aid their eyes imploring me.

“Hurry. The pots are volatile.” The young male mage cried.

I grabbed the hand of the woman as she was closest to me. As I dragged her free, I took her to sit upon a wall away from the danger, the pots exploded. I ran over in vain hoping the young male mage was by some miracle alive. But he was dead. I scolded myself for being too slow.

We should have saved more, I failed them. Just like I had failed the poor young male mage in Kirkwall. I dropped to my knees, oh how I recalled that poor mages face.

* * *

 

_This horror before my eyes took me back to that hellish night; a right of annulment had been called. When I happened upon a fellow templar following his orders without question. I was devastated to see it was the same mage I had saved only days before. I had saved him from one Templar attack only to find him on the end of the blade of another; I had taken to his side to make sure he didn't die alone._

_"No! I didn't save you so you could die, damn it!" I cried in frustration._

_"I am scared." He wailed._

_"Don't be the maker will take you in his arms, you will find peace there." I tried to assure him even though my belief was starting to become shaky._

_"Even an abomination like me?" He whimpered._

_"You are no abomination.” I managed to smile through my tears. “You are gifted, the maker knows better."_

_He fell silent after that. It took me some time to pull up from the ground, I lay him down. I had gone back after the end of the rebellion and saw to it he was buried, given the same respect as the Templar’s who fell._

I was roused from my pained reverie by Iron Bull, "Come on Bethan, we have done all we can."

* * *

 

'Is it ever enough?' I followed the Herald and the survivors to the chantry. Morale was low; we all felt we were waiting around to die. I was trying to hold to my faith, this was not the end the maker had planned for us, I hoped. Weary with the memories of those lost, and those who died before my eyes only moments ago, I did not have the energy to comfort anyone, so I slumped against a wall, and sunk down, dropping my head into my hands.  
When I finally lifted my head we were told there was a road out of Haven. I took to aiding Cullen and the other members of the inquisition begin guiding people free of Haven. It was no easy task carrying the sick and the injured uphill, and to safety. No one was talking, everyone was just focusing on moving, just keep moving I told myself.

When at a safe distance the fire arrow flew up to let the Herald know, and soon we saw Haven buried, and were left to wonder could anyone survive that, so many lives once again snuffed out needlessly, what was the maker doing? I knew atrocities happened everywhere but it is different witnessing them, and the suffering of those caught in the middle of them.

We pitched tents, and saw to those who would recover, and made comfortable those who would not. "You can't save them all." A soft voice proclaimed behind me.

I turned to see a thin, pale blonde boy, his long hair obscuring his eyes. He had a strange way about him; his voice was almost ethereal in nature. "It's not your fault, you do all you can, you always have." he whispered.

I turned back to the man resting upon a cot, he would not last the night. When I turned back the boy was gone, I looked around the tent. Pulling up I stepped outside and still could find no sight of him "Strange." I muttered under my breath.

I refused to get involved in the arguments that had begun about blame. The advisors were at each other’s throats’. I instead aided mother Gisele with giving comfort to the survivors, giving them food, and shelter, it was not much but it was something.

"Mother Gisele?"

"Yes my child." She stated in that judicious tone that only those of the chantry have in my experience, all knowing but having no answers.

"Who is that strange boy wandering around camp?"

"What strange boy?" She looked at me with confusion.

I laughed awkwardly to myself, I must have been mistaken, at least that's what I hope it was. I couldn't be dealing with a crisis of faith and losing my mind.

I stepped back outside, and I caught Cullen giving me a sideways glance, with a hint of a smile upon his lips, it faded swiftly as if he felt guilty for it. I walked over knowing the weight of the burden of blame he was placing upon himself, his shoulders slumped. Nothing I could say would convince him it was not his fault, but I tried regardless.

I did not feel I had the right words “You are not to blame for this Cullen. I know you wish you could have done more, somehow foreseen this. But surprise attacks are by their very nature unpredictable.”

"I know you mean well Bethan, but you don't understand the burden and guilt of being the one giving those orders that send others to what could possibly their end." He sighed heavily.

I hated to admit he was right, but I too suffered. Lost in that moment I forgot all sense of propriety and embraced him, he did not respond at first but his arms pulled around me, he took a hand to the back of my neck, pressed his head to mine. "I am glad you made it. I don't know what I would have done if..." He didn't finish that sentence but he held me tighter. The comfort and warmth of his embrace was difficult to break free from, I wanted to remain in his arms, safe and warm, not back to this world where things were dangerous and confusing.

Just as I pulled up I felt the cold for the first time. I wondered away leaving those in charge to continue arguing amongst themselves. I felt powerless to stop them. I saw a figure in the distance, thinking it was a trick of my eyes, so I rubbed my eyes in disbelief of my senses, but they had to be real, they were still there and moving.  
"I think I see someone." I called out.

That finally stopped them being consumed by their thoughts. Before I could move, they had charged ahead of me. So I just stood and watched as Cullen carried her into camp, it was the Herald.

Mother Gisele tended to her, she looked battered and bruised. I heard whispers of her facing down some Elder One. This was the first I had heard of it, it should have sounded so ridiculous but I had seen so much in my life that this sounded plausible, and the dragon was apparently this dark spawns pet. This information was a lot to take in; I couldn't believe it, what chance did we have against such a beast and its master. If this was another test of the makers I was becoming weary of them, where were the times of peace and calm, or was I too never have those.

As I wrestled with what this all meant, when an unexpected thing happened, the whole camp burst into song. It was moving to witness, they had faith in the Herald, I was not so sure but I could not argue that she had certainly performed what could only be called miracles.

We wondered where we would go from here, and we were told there was a place for us to begin again, Skyhold.

It was a long and arduous journey, but when we made it Skyhold was a sight to behold. It was a vast fortress that almost seemed to be perched in the clouds. It was hard to believe that such a place could be abandoned. We settled in quickly, I was assigned to aiding the mages with settling in. I got them organized and found them all accommodations.

As they took to their cots one of the older male elven mages turned to me, his green eyes alight with curiosity, he brushed his long hair which was only showing a slight graying back from his face "They say you were a Templar. Is that true?"

"Yes, I was. But that is not the capacity I am here in. I want to help like everyone else" I assured him.

"No, you misunderstand me. You are nothing like your fellows, you do not have the look or demeanor of a Templar" He added nervously.

I was unsure as to whether it was a compliment or an insult, so I arched an eyebrow in response. "What are Templar's like?" I asked mildly amused.

"Well they have this weary look around mages, but you seem at ease in our company, it's odd."

I laughed to myself; the poor mage was starting to dig himself a whole with each attempt to explain his point, so before he began to stammer I added. "I know what you meant. I am not like my brothers; mages are people and should be treated as such"

"I cannot imagine you had many Templar friends who share your ideals."

"I only ever got the chance to make one friend Kirkwall, my duties kept me rather busy... “I confessed. “Do you need anything more?" I offered as leaning against the doorway was becoming uncomfortable, I had to move.

"Not at present" He smiled, light wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. He looked more at ease than most mages ever are in Templar company. I was glad to see this, this is what I had hoped for, mages and Templar’s treating each other like equals. I walked away feeling less conflicted, but a weariness made me wonder how long this would last.

I finally stopped for a moment in the courtyard, to find Cullen handing out more assignments, I knew I should go over and help, but I took small moment to just to catch my breath. Everything had moved so fast, Haven, attack, Skyhold. I needed to pause for a moment. I felt guilty after a few minutes as I saw everyone rushing around me. I was about to approach Cullen's table when the newly named inquisitor walked over, so I held back. Their exchange put me on edge, I couldn't put my finger on why, I had seen many women flirt with him before, and I knew he had partners, as had I, so I didn't quite understand why I was feeling an odd sting of jealousy 'it couldn't be, that is preposterous'. I kept trying to push these feeling back into their place at the recess of mind where they belonged, but they refused to co-operate. And when Cullen noticed me his eyes widened, and he stammered through the rest of their exchange.

The inquisitor seemed to become rather awkward herself and wondered off, I stepped forward. "I have set up the mages in accommodations, what else needs to be done Commander?"

"Commander?, Have you forgotten my name again." He teased with a crooked smile.

"Sorry, it is difficult to know at times when it's okay to be informal."

I still felt foolish about the hug; I must have gotten caught up in the moment and forgotten myself. Cassandra would probably sneer at me next time I saw her.

He narrowed his eyes, then added hastily "I feel like I need to apologize and I am not sure why?" He was beginning to look rather confused.

"Why would you need to apologize?" I pressed sharing in his confusion.

‘Did he feel strange about the hug too?’

"Well it’s that, the inquisitor is just, she..." He trailed off mid-sentence stumbling over his words.

This strange dynamic was a strain upon us both it seemed, I hated this, we used to be so at ease. I wanted things to go back to how they were when we’re joking and sharing everything with each other. Why were these old feelings rushing back to me like we had only just met? When I had had a huge crush upon him. But then he was my commander, it was against the templar rules. He stuck to the rules, well most of them. So we became friends. I wondered if his awkwardness was for a similar reason, I daren't think of it as it made me feel apprehensive.

These are silly fantasies reserved for teenagers not grown women, I told myself.

So I simply stated "You need not explain. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Could you take a rotation on guard, we are a little short for the moment. And when you are finished could you report to the war room. There is a matter of concern that I wish to discuss."

I nodded despite wanting to press him for information, as the vague nature of his words made me weary. For the first time in a long while, it was nicer to be away from Cullen, taking up my post, I kept a focused eye upon the horizon until I was relieved of duty. My calm vanished the moment I recalled Cullen's request. I made my way to the war room.

I stood taking deep calming breaths, Templar training at times was a gift from the maker, knowing your chosen path, made me feel grounded, having faith gave me strength, and the discipline gave me peace and calm when there was none to be found. There were times when it had failed me; I struggled with my faith cutting down fellow Templar’s. I felt shaken to see what had become of them. I had always had a very high tolerance to lyrium rarely suffering any of its ill effects, luck or genetics; I couldn't be sure which played in my favor.

I finally drew my armored glove back and knocked harshly upon the wood, I watched splinters drift free as the sharpness of the metal marked the door, just like it had with many enemies faces.

"Come in" Cullen called in a steady commanding voice.

I had often found it bewildering that people would often talk of his shy nature, I had only ever seen him as a calm, and capable commander, and a loyal friend, well…. until recently. When I took the seat he offered, his assured smile faded, and he took over to the doors to lock them. This put me on edge, I looked to him pacing, he seemed nervous, which only gave me greater cause for concern.

"Where are the others?" I mused aloud, the expansive room looking quite empty with just the two of us.

"I asked that we be alone as my office is not safe for the moment. They mocked me mercilessly trust me" He grimaced, taking an exasperated hand across his face.

I wondered what his colleagues were teasing him about. The jacket, the hug or, Maker… something worse?

"Oh, what did they say?" I asked hoping for some humor to break the tension.

"I would rather not repeat it." He remarked flustered.

He finally settled back into his chair, but that edge remained about him, a restlessness.

I hated to press him, but this now expansive silence was killing me. "What is it, commander?"

I asked with the utmost respect for him, it wasn't a demand for answers but concern for him, and a weariness of what could be bad news.

As always he admonished me "How many times must I tell you? You can call me Cullen, Bethan." he stated with an uneasy smile. "Ah yes, you must be wondering why the secrecy. The reports about the red Templar’s are coming in thick and fast. Kidnapping, murders and recruiting those who come willingly, I use that term loosely. We need to put a stop to this madness." He paused, the look of disgust easing as he looked to me, he smiled weakly. "I hate to ask this of you, and know this in no order, as I could not in good conscience force such a request. I know your resistance to lyrium is very high, you have taken it for many years with no ill effect, and this is almost unheard of."

He paused once more as if gauging my reaction, seeing if I was following his train of thought, I merely nodded in response, I could guess as to what he was suggesting, and I could see how uncomfortable he was making such a request. "Our agents have a good mark upon the red Templar’s location. I was wondering if you could go to this village and go uncover and join the red Templar’s. And Feed us any information you can, bring them down from within. Should you feel your comprised or in danger, I will keep up to date with every report you send us so we will always have agents at a safe point away from the red Templar’s who would be able to assist you, and myself personally if need be. You know the risks, I want you to think this over, do not answer me now, I do not want you to feel on the spot or bound by duty to agree, I want you to go into this with a clear mind."

He smiled kindly, his gentle eyes looked a little sad. It was difficult for him to ask these things of his soldiers, but to him, I was not just a soldier, we were friends. I wanted to reassure him that I could handle this, I would be fine, he need not worry. But I found my words failed me, I could not find words to comfort him, or myself. The idea of joining our enemy, being labeled a traitor, having to work for this twisted Elder One all concerned me.  
I could not shake the weary feeling it gave me, but I knew that I could save lives. What frightened me was that they would expect me to consume red lyrium 'would I to become a monster, or would my genes protect me from its ill effects?' I couldn't be sure.

I was broken from my reverie by Cullen prompting me to speak. "I am sure you have questions."

I turned to him and asked the question that drove the greatest fear with me. "Will the red lyrium destroy me?" My voice wavered revealing my fear.

This inspired a look of shame upon his face, making me in turn, feel guilty. "I am sorry, I should not have asked, it was a foolish idea." He tried to dismiss the conversation as if it had never happened.

"Cullen" I stated pointedly. "You have a tactical and practical mind, I trust you, no move you make is foolish. Please answer my question, I have concerns" I stated with more confidence.

"I cannot be sure of the effect red lyrium will have upon you." He sighed heavily. "If there is anyone who could survive this without experiencing the corruption, it is you. I understand if you see it fitting to refuse, I do think I could endure this duty myself. Know that anything you learnt would be invaluable. If anything, your involvement with the Red Templars might make its effects clearer. If you wish to withdraw at any point, rest assured the Inquisition will do all it can to get you out.”

"So I will be taking red lyrium to find out its effects upon me." I murmured.

I hated the idea but it seemed the most reasonable option before me. Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling in frustration. "Yes. This feels wrong sending you, but I trust you, and know you are more capable than most to take on this role."

"Will you stop beating yourself up, if I choose to go, it will be my choice, you know I am too stubborn to be pushed into anything." I smiled.

"Oh, I know." He retorted with a knowing smile.

We spoke as friends for a time after, but at times the conversation felt stilted. His eye contact was evasive, and when he looked to me his complexion became ruddy. I assumed it was due to the concerns weighing upon him, and the endless duties that lay before him. So I left him to his mountain of work.

When I stepped out of the war room the questions began once more in my mind, the pressure in my chest grew, making it difficult to breathe. I struggled to focus, but I managed to still my mind, but it was an exhaustive effort and took some time.

I slowly made my way back to my room; I had barely taken a seat upon my bed when a soft knock followed. It was Cullen, he awaited permission to enter my room. I smiled shaking my head. "You can come in."

I narrowed my eyes when a shy smile crossed his lips, and he seemed more on edge here than his office. I wondered if he had brought red lyrium, just to get this over with under his watchful eye.

"So twice in one day what do I owe the pleasure of your company this time?" I continued.

"I know we did not cover everything, and I must put my mind at rest. You know I care for you." He smiled his head slightly tilted.

"Yes, and I care for you." I said with strange uneasy sense.

He took my hands in his, dropping to his haunches before me. "I couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt; this is why this request is so difficult for me to ask you." His sincerity warmed my heart, I smiled to myself.

"I know it was not easy for you, I will think this through clearly, bring me some red lyrium as soon as you can, and I will know for certain if I can tolerate it" I added sounding more assured than I felt.

"I will, and I will watch over you, I will entrust no one else with your safety." He promised.

"Thank you. Only with you would I feel safe." I returned.

I wasn't certain if it was the light or a flush of color took to his cheeks, so I dismissed it. I aided him to his feet, he was a little of balance. I chuckled softly as he swayed, steadying himself with a firm grip upon my arms. He didn't let go for a time, he seemed to be studying my face.

"I am going to be okay. If I go I can handle it." I stated smiling until I met his gaze, it was strangely intense.

He seemed to pull out of a daze, breaking his grip hastily. He backed away, taking his hand to the back of his neck in a nervous manner. He finally stammered a goodbye and walked out. That was a very strange moment, my eyebrow raised with my confusion, maybe it wasn't silly teenage fantasy 'Was he feeling the same way?'

How would one broach such a topic, but now I had to uncomfortable topics to ponder. But somehow joining the red Templar’s now seemed the less nerve-wracking of the two.

There were so many risks involved, but truly aiding the inquisition even in such a thankless capacity would give me a renewed sense of purpose. I fought out both sides before I drifted off to sleep. I had made up my mind, and in the morning I would tell Cullen that I would be joining the red templar’s.


	3. The red lyrium trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan has decided to go undercover, but now comes the test of taking red lyruim

When I woke I recalled the direction my life was about to take and I felt weary at the thought. I had been called a traitor many times by my fellow Templar's when aiding the mages, but it had been when I was acting upon my conscience so it felt justified despite the difficulty. Being undercover would require I do some unsavory things and I would have to be labelled a traitor by the very inquisition I was aiding. This would feel different.

I dressed slowly glancing at my dose of lyrium, the blue glow now seemed innocuous, and safe in comparison to the red lyrium I was soon to replace it with. I cleaned up and put my armor on slowly piece by piece, this wouldn't protect me from a red Templar, if they even accepted me as one of them. I sighed heavily. My mornings used to be about focus and calm, but today I could not find that peace, I just wanted to get this red lyrium trial over with.

I knocked upon the War Room’s heavy door, as my knock resounded through the corridor I wondered if anyone else was awake. Heavy footsteps answered my question, the door creaked loudly, I was greeted by the heavy-lidded eyes of that red-haired woman, I think she was the spymaster, or so I had been told.

"Yes?" She pressed looking a little harassed.

"Sorry to bother you. But I need to speak with Commander Cullen."

A sense of mischief seemed to spark in her eyes, "Cullen." She called. "Bethan is here to help you test how sturdy the war table is, again." She put much emphasis on the ‘again’.

My cheeks ran hot with her insinuation, only because I couldn't say I hadn't thought about it. I could only imagine Cullen face, and that mildly amused me. I felt guilty when I entered the room and see the blush crossing over his face. He didn't dignify their teasing with a response, I would myself have been amused and even joined in had I not been part of the joke myself.

"I don't believe I know your name?" I stated turning to the woman who had answered the door "Ah, Yes. My name is Leliana, I am the spymaster." She added with a slight Orleasian twang.

The well-dressed woman beside her in silk, her shirt had so many ruffles but somehow she managed to pull off with an air of dignity. "I do apologize things have been hectic as you can imagine, so manners have taken a backseat. I am Josephine the ambassador of the inquisition."

"It is nice to finally, put names to your faces." I smiled.

"Well I can see by the demeanor of our commander that he wishes alone with you." Lelianna gave a wry smile in his direction.

They made themselves scarce, giggling the whole way. At least this had given them some good humor as it looked like for them is had been a long night, or difficult morning, all showing signs of fatigue. I turned to Cullen, his shoulders looked tense, I had to push aside the urge to take my hands to his shoulders. "You look tense." I remarked trying to dispel these thoughts.

"It has been quite a long night, and an exhaustive morning." He confessed with a heavy breath.

"You haven't slept?" I exclaimed feeling for the advisers, I wondered if people knew how hard they worked, and the choices they had to agonize over. I couldn't help it I rounded Cullen's chair; he almost jumped out of his skin when my fingers took under his furs.

"What are you doing?" He squeaked.

"I was just going to…never mind.” I stated hastily beginning to feel foolish for acting on my impulse. I rounded to sit in front of him my cheeks burning.

His expression was of curiosity and confusion for a moment before his expression changed. His eyes were now trained upon me, and his brow furrowed.

"So have you made your decision?"

"Yes. I will do it." Was all I could manage without revealing too much of my anxiety.

"I have procured some red lyrium from an old contact, they are more than discreet. It worried me how easy it was, this means the supply for the red Templar army is abundant." He grimaced at the thought.

I couldn't believe he had found some this quickly; I tried to steady the shake that was beginning in my hands. Cullen must have noticed, as he took my hands in his.

"Shall I take it now?" I asked awkwardly.

“Bethan, I am not here to pressure into this." I nodded as I didn't have the words, I wanted it over with. "Would you prefer some privacy?” he added. I nodded. I felt the edge return as we both stood.

I took the lead, pushing the heavy door back slowly. We walked the corridor in silence, I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until we rounded the corner and I exhaled, and tried to steady my breath. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be able to handle this, I wanted to play my part.

We stepped inside my room and he closed the door over, the lock sounded thunderous as it clanged into place. I took a seat at the edge of my bed; I placed my arms in my lap trying to avoid fidgeting nervously. He passed me the red lyrium, it was wrapped up in many layers of leather. “Why is it wrapped like this?”

“It is to avoid any major ill effects to the courier.”

This had not calmed my fears. I took as deep breath then began to unwrap the package, and found it was in a dust like form, but even then the vibrant red glow emanated from it. The sight of the lyrium was hypnotic; it was difficult to look away. I worried that if it was strong enough to have some effect before ingesting it, what would it do to my body. I had to get this over with, so I quickly took the dose.

At first I felt nothing, but as it took to my blood it felt like it had set it alight, it burned mercilessly. I bit the inside of my mouth, tightening my jaw as it seared just beneath my skin. And I found breathing became almost impossible, the pressure upon my chest was so heavy, I felt like I was drowning.  
My silence must have begun to worry him.

"Are you ok?" Cullen pressed.

I turned to him with my jaw clenched, a tight smile, and nodded slowly. He frowned. "Bethan don't lie to me." He chided, but the look was of concern.

As soon as the pain began to dull I felt like I could breathe again, I gasped for air. I steadied myself, my vision blurred when I bowed my head, as I lifted my head to look up at Cullen things became clear again, I was relieved that it appeared temporary. He took my face in his hands, scrutinizing my face. "How do you feel?"

"I feel okay. There was some initial pain, but it is passing." I didn't wasn't to tell him too much, he clearly felt guilty enough as it was.

"I want you check in with me every hour, do not be late. As for sleeping arrangements, there is a possibility of side effects. I have known of people sleep walking with normal lyruim. So Maker knows what red lyruim may induce. Do you feel you’re at risk?”

“I don’t think so, Cullen. But perhaps just in case… there’s room on my floor.”

Cullen looked at me long and hard, then straightened up, “Yes, on the floor, of course.” He said hastily, “It may have to wait until the others are asleep but if… it means a lot to you.”

“It does.” I said.

“V-very well. It is best you keep this between us, Bethan. It may be seen as overstepping my bounds.” He added hastily. His eyes lingered upon me to assure himself I truly was ok and it was no front. This had not been as bad as I expected but it was still unnerving, I still felt a little shaky.

It had been over and done with so fast that I could almost believe it had never happened, but the dull pain lingered for a time as a reminder. Cullen handed me a stack of reports on the red Templar's so I could go I could learn as much as possible. He then left to attend to his duties. My only duty today was to make copious notes on the effects of red lyruim. I did not wish to lie should another take the same risk, so I put the true agony on the page. I convinced myself Cullen would have so much to do this would sit idle on his desk for enough time for me to bolt. It was strange to just try to remain aware of your body and any changes, I lay down for a time, but I became restless. This was normal as I was used to keeping busy so to be idle would be a mission in itself, as I couldn't miss a thing. An hour seemed to drag out before me, then I took to the war room to find Cullen waiting outside. I froze, if I handed this to him now he would read it. My grip upon the page tightened; by the time I reached Cullen he had to pry the report from my hand. As I feared he read it right before me, he glowered at the page. His expression softened when he looked to me, but his gaze remained steely.

"Why didn't you tell me about how much pain you were in?" He pressed.

"I did not wish to worry you needlessly." I muttered not looking him in the eye.

"Did you think I wouldn't read your notes?” I need to be assured you’re okay as your commander, and as your friend." This statement was very sobering.

"I am sorry Cullen." I could barely hold eye contact.

"Don't be sorry. Just continue to write honest accounts, only then can I help you. I need to be assured that you are ok before we send you out." I knew he was right, so took a deep breath and looked him in the eye and assured him I would do as he asked.

He looked skeptical until I returned every hour with an honest account, I was feeling nothing but restless. “So we can assume I will be ok?" I added after stating nothing was out of the ordinary for the umpteenth time.

"Assume nothing. I know this is less than ideal but it is a necessity. I have made sure that everything was done earlier in the day so I have no duties outstanding."

For a moment things felt like they were the tension didn't exist and we were friends it was nice, why did I feel some disappointment, maybe I didn't want things to go back, 'did I want more?'

I turned and marched like a solider down the corridor, hearing his laughter ring behind me, made me smile. By the time we got to my room we were laughing and joking, but after we indulged in the frivolous it was a necessity to talk of the serious nature of what I would truly face. He took to the floor beside my bed, and I lay upon the edge of my bed turned to him.

"Cullen. Will they even accept me?" I mused wondering whether they would just laugh in my face.

"Why wouldn't they? You are Templar trained, a good fighter. I would advise you don't mention your stance on mages."

"Hmm. Is Samson as dangerous as you said? He seemed harmless enough back in Kirkwall." I pressed; the idea of a man with the strength of a dozen was daunting. But it didnt seem to match the man I recalled, 'he could not have changed that much, could he?'

"Yes I am afraid he is." He sighed. “He has changed much since then, and with all the power of red lyruim at his disposal, he is not who he once was. So be cautious, I know you can be focused, but you have also been very reckless at times, these are risks you cannot run. Samson is no fool despite his choices, you must be above reproach. So you will be labelled a traitor of the inquisition, and on the face of it I will have to talk ill of you." He looked pained by this.

I felt saddened by the idea of them all hating me, but it was just part of the role I would have to play. "I know." I sighed heavily.

"We know better, I know you would never turn on me. I mean us." He corrected himself quickly.

"What do I do if the red lyrium begins to have a greater effect on me?" I began to let all of my burning questions flow free of my lips before I found a reason to hold them back.

"Remember help will not be far. This will not be a dead end.” I yawned, feeling a mild weariness. "Do you still feel you need company should there be any lingering side effects?" He ventured.

"Only if you don’t mind staying?” I didn’t want to pressure him, but I was feeling weary.

“Only if you feel you need me here.”

I nodded. “What about you?" I pressed recalling he had not slept the previous night.

"Stop worrying about me, you always do this. I am here for you." He chided.

I turned away from him trying to calm my mind of the fears racing through, I always imagined worst case scenarios just as preparation, it never helped but my mind was cruel at times. I imagined Samson snapping my neck instead of taking me into the red Templar's.

I drifted into a haze; I dreamt I had become a behemoth. I was encased in lyrium, I couldn’t breathe. I was trapped inside. I tried to cry out but it came out as an angry roar. Everyone was fleeing at the sight of me, their terrified screams filled the air. My failing arm caught them with a sickening crunch. Their blood was on my hands.

I jolted up with a start, trying to catch my breath. I turned to find Cullen half asleep himself; he was looking panicked and ill at ease himself. I pulled up dragging the sheets from the bed; I lay them down next to him, and took up on the floor beside him. Placing my shaky clammy hand to his forehead. "Cullen, its Bethan. You’re having a nightmare, or flashback, it's not real you are safe."

This I recalled had calmed him in the past. After he calmed, I must have drifted off, as I awoke to Cullen trying to carefully untangle himself from me. I opened my pained eyes looked up at him. “I cannot handle too many days without sleep anymore, it must be my age. And I was supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around. So frustrating, but one of the many reasons I love you.” He smiled weakly until his tired mind caught up with what he had just uttered.

It took some time for me to realize. “What?”

“I thought I was a little too obvious…perhaps not.” He strained, laughing awkwardly.

“No. I had no idea. I mean I hoped.” I pressed my head back down to his chest. This bashfulness was infectious. I could swear I was usually more articulate than this even when tired.

“Timing has never been our strong suit, has it?” He sighed.

He was right, there was always something. I lifted my head. “True.”

“This moment just felt…right.”

“What if I don’t return?” I added recalling the dreams, and the fatalistic thoughts.

“I have faith in you. You will return.” He pulled me to him, allowing me to sleep in the comfort of his arms until his duties demanded he leave. “Don’t worry I will be there to see you off. It won’t be easy to hear all the ill words that will be made of you.” He sighed.

“May I ask you something?” I ventured, not wanting to ruin the moment but feeling a worry pressing upon me.

“Of course.”

“What of the inquisitor? Was there nothing there?” I hoped I hadn’t sounded like a jealous fool.

“Ah that was just a very awkward sentimental exchange. She struggles with sentimental moments, and I didn’t quite know how to say I was glad she survived without sounding flat, or foolish. And for me your presence only flustered me further. Oh Maker did it look like more?” I nodded. “I assure you I have only ever thought of you. I mean. I am not very good at this am I?”

“Neither am I. We will figure this out.” I smiled. It felt odd to say we, but in a good way as a smile drew across my lips.

“We will.” He returned my sentiment with a similar smile upon his face.

Even though I had barely rested, I felt better knowing that it had not just been one sided, the awkwardness could stop, and things could change. I would have had time to overthink it and ruin the moment, but I had other matters to attend to. So I took to reading all his reports he had given me earlier on the red Templar’s. It consisted mainly of tracking their movements, eye-witness accounts from very few who managed to escape their clutches alive. The reports made this Samson sound like a monster, not a man, this did not ease my mind, but it was better to know all I could of him.

One account worried me more than the others:

* * *

 

_That Templar leader came with his monsters, first they took only the men. When not enough of them survived, they took all that were left. He was merciless; we were not people to him, a means to an end. He takes joy in our pain. It will be my turn soon, I can only pray it will be a swifter end than I have witnessed others suffer. I am tired. I have seen and felt enough pain. A miracle, we managed to escape, thank the Maker._

* * *

 

So I would have to be careful in how I approached this Samson, I could not appeal to his humanity. So I read all Cullen could recall of him, this was more promising, his dedication to the Templar cause, and his need for another chance, this I could use. I could recall precious little of Samson myself our encounters were always so brief, and our communications did not go beyond a nod of recognition, and basic greetings.

After my mind was awash with anything and everything red Templar, I needed a break. I wondered through the main hall, rushing down the steps. I could see Cassandra training in the corner, she was tireless. I wondered over, took a sword in hand. And began swinging the blade at the dummy. Cassandra was startled momentarily by the sound of a second blade taking to the dummies, but once she saw it was me, she continued. Our attacks fell into synch, the metal clunking against the wood, the dummies looking worse for wear. Each swing took a little away from the nervous edge I had been on for days, despite training being tiring it was also calming, it gave me that focus I felt I had been lacking. I finally stopped to take a few level breaths.

“You looked like you needed that.” Cassandra remarked taking a moment herself.

“Yes I did. It’s been a testing time for everyone. How have you fared?”

“I am trying to understand all of this. The Makers plan in all of this. You are a woman of faith are you not?"

I didn’t know how to answer that simple question anymore. I hated lying, but I did not have the energy for a debate on faith.

I nodded. Sighing heavily.

“It is not always so easy to hold to. It’s difficult to believe that certain things were meant to happen.” She strained.

Her honesty shamed me; I did not have her courage. I simply nodded fully sharing the sentiment. My faith had sustained me through so much, and with it being so shaky of late I did feel a little lost. All of these bad things just seemed cruel and unfair, no reason or plan seemed to be in play.

“You seem a little quiet today; normally it is difficult to stop you talking.” She remarked with concern and humor.

“I have a lot on my mind at the moment.” The first honest admission I had managed so far.

“Yes, I can imagine it must be jarring to see red lyrium being used again. Cullen told me you were in Kirkwall at the time of the rebellion.”

“Yes, this had brought back some bad memories. I am sure you have suffered yourself given your connection to the divine. I am sorry for your loss. What was she like?”

“She was a good woman, we thought if anyone could have made peace between the Templar’s and mages it would have been her.”

“It sounds like you were fortunate to have known her.”

“Yes I am sorry you will never get the chance.”

We turned back to the dummies to finish what we had started. Our shoulders stiff after the momentary break, but once in full swing, the muscles guided the sword like it was an extension of my arm. The dummy took a cut for each worry and concern that plagued me, so it was death by a thousand cuts for the poor training dummy.

When my energy began to leave me, I slowed. Then finally stopped. It had been nice to talk to someone even if I had not engaged as much as I could have.

Cullen found me leaving the training area. I glanced up, my cheeks flushing upon sight of him. “Cullen.”

He looked around; no one was in earshot. “Bethan. We will need to move to as soon as possible, we need to catch up to them before we lose their trail. I would suggest donning your Templar armor.”

I nodded catching my breath, this was fast. I did not know how I felt about my Templar uniform anymore, but how I felt didn’t matter, it was the best way to appear credible. Any story could make me appear opposed to the inquisition. Their choice of allies was the easiest. I cleaned up, and stepped out.

I barely managed to catch sight of Cullen by the stables, or at least I thought it was him. I made my way over, to find it was him. He had saddled a horse for me. Neither of us paid any mind to the awkwardness and embraced, it was only the armor that made it difficult. I did not want to leave him again so soon but I had chosen to do my part for the inquisition, sadly it would be largely a thankless role.

Cullen pulled back and leaned upon the stable wall, pulling something out of his pocket. He looked thoughtfully at his hand for a moment, before looking up at me. "I have something. My brother gave me this before I began my Templar training, it was most likely just what he had in his pocket at the time but he said it was for luck. I know we weren't meant to have personal items our faith was meant to sustain us."

"You broke the rules. I am shocked." I smiled wide.

"You know I followed too many at a detriment to myself, and others." He sighed sadly. "I want you to have it for luck."

My eyes widened, this was such a kind gesture I felt undeserving of. But I also knew that I would need more than faith to sustain me in this coming trial.

"Thank you, I will keep it safe."

"It's silly I know but I am glad. You can return it to me when you come back."

I took the gift in hand, I admired it for a moment. I found additional pockets upon my Templar uniform, so I placed it safely in one of them. I felt rather confused as to the new pockets in the leather just beneath the breastplate.

"Those changes to your uniform I had made while you were busy reporting to me thought given the nature of the work you must undergo it was necessary." He confessed as I mounted the horse in a rather undignified manner.

"Thank you. You have thought of everything."

"Lelianna's crows are for ferrying information and we will be close by. You are no alone out there." His gaze was loving, it felt unreal for him to be looking at me in such a manner, but this was real.

Sadly the mission to join the red Templar’s was also real. Leaving was no easy task, I had to not look back as it pained my heart enough, if I looked back I might lose my nerve.

I rode out of Skyhold, saddened to be leaving it behind. I had to focus on moving forward. I knew where I needed to go they were marching toward the emerald graves, and there was a town before it, they would stop and recruit unwilling soldiers, and willing Templar's. Well, that was their pattern thus far according to the reports.

It would be a long journey.


	4. Joining the red templar's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan joins the red Templar's

Reading Cullen’s reports on the movements of the red Templar's narrowed down my choices of where to find them, I had to time it right to get there before the red Templar's, pulling in on their heels would be chaos. In such Chaos I would be reckless, and I could not afford to be. I found the small town on the outskirts of the Emerald graves, I felt a cold stab through my heart when I was greeted so cheerily by the townsfolk, they had no idea what was to come. Sitting in a tavern awaiting the red Templar’s was a trial in itself, I sat here knowing if I lifted a hand in defense of the poor townsfolk they would cut me down, and I could not warn them it was too late. This knowledge did not take away the guilt, tears burned my tired eyes. I had slept rough, but had made sure to clean up to look as if I was one of the townsfolk. I had to succeed and to succeed they had to happen upon me, walking into red Templar a camp was too risky, too many things could go wrong, my uniform was no guarantee they wouldn’t see me as a threat. The red Templar recruits themselves were unstable, so a more controlled environment was my only hope to appear genuine in my efforts to join them. I wasn't sure how long I could remain silent when things turned ugly.

When they entered the town you knew. The door burst open, a mother and son rushed in, followed by more cried, “The red Templar’s are here. Maker help us. They are here to turn us into those things."

I held back the urge to rush to the rescue, a wave of emotion threatened as I heard cries of agony outside, but I had to hold to a facade of calm, disinterest. My conscience was burdened by the horrors occurring; ‘I should be helping these people.’

The silence outside was not comforting; it had myself and the townsfolk hiding in the tavern on edge. The only thing to break the tense silence was the desperate whispered prayers of the waif of a girl who had taken up beside me. She spoke no sense, her words were incomprehensible. I had tried to calm her but she seemed beyond my words, lost to me. She must have seen the armor and hoped I would protect her.  
The eerie silence was broken with a loud crash. They broke down the door with ease, startling the poor townsfolk who had hoped to find safety here. The man who swaggered to the front of the group had to be Samson, he looked different. The red lyrium had ravaged his once youthful appearance, he now looked haggard, but his demeanor was more commanding. "So this is where they are all hiding, slim pickings out there.” He stated to his beasts that followed in step behind him. “You have two choices you can join us or you can die." he declared to all who had sheltered in the tavern. A twisted smile crossed his face as he looked around at all the villagers cowering, none stood against him, but all remained silent. I may not have been sure if I believed, but given Samson's escorts being beasts twisted with red lyrium growths I prayed no one would try and be a hero.

His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale from the long years of lyrium abuse. But I recalled Cullen's warning so I could not underestimate him. His jagged armor seemed to be infused with lyrium. This and the beasts at his side made him appear intimidating.

His eyes stopped on me, narrowing momentarily before he declared "What a sorry bunch you are, couldn't make a red Templar out of most of you lot, but we will see won't we."

"You won't take my boy from me." An older woman declared protectively holding her young son.

Samson's neck almost snapped round as he glared at her. He walked over smashing his fists against the table before them, which broke under the force. "This is the kind of power you may yet wield." He stated as a warning and encouragement of some kind, none of the villagers found it reassuring. But they looked more terrified; any looks of defiance seemed to fade as eyes cast to the ground.

He pointed to the poor girl next to me who had begun to pray and cower behind me. "You. Would you like to be a red Templar?" He teased.

This was some kind of game; he could clearly see she was not red Templar material. The poor girl shrunk before him, she was a quivering wreck unable to find her voice. If his plan was to provoke a reaction from me he had succeeded, I couldn't sit there and watch this, I pulled up and took in front of the girl, and I stood firmly in his path. He glowered at me as if I had ruined his fun. "Leave her be, I will take her place." I offered, my heart racing.

He looked me up and down. I jolted as he moved forward swiftly and seized my face. His fingers dug into my cheeks, my jaw throbbed, but I tried not to let it show. "Where do I know your face from?" He pressed as he eyed me suspiciously. I had to hide the fear rising within me, he was strong enough to kill me with ease. I had to be careful how I pushed him, I was treading on egg shells here.

"Kirkwall I would assume. I was a Templar, as were you." I strained against his vice like grip.

After a time his eyes lit with recognition and amusement "Oh, yes, I remember you, Cullen's little lapdog, jumping to his every command. Has your master abandoned you?"

For a moment I forgot who and what he was and was cast back to my time in Kirkwall being taunted by my fellow Templar's, I had never dignified their cruel remarks at the time, but I had wanted to.

"Oh that's rich coming from Corypheus's mutt" I growled, I knew I should not have been so foolish but I had let him rile me, and There was a lot of unresolved anger just waiting to surface within me, this was worrying.

He gripped my throat, and as if I weighed nothing he lifted me up and held me there until my kicking and squirming slowed, I was gasping for air. I felt as though I was not going to live to regret my foolish words, I had failed, I was going to die here and now.

He could have snapped my neck, or crushed my throat, but instead he released me. I dropped to the ground in a heap. He loomed over me as I gulping in precious air. I tried to recover myself swiftly but it was difficult, it felt as though his hand remained upon my throat, the skin burned with the memory of his fingers. I staggered back up and placed myself square in his path.

"Do you have a death wish?" He growled.

This had not gone to plan, I was meant to using all I knew to trap him, but somehow I had fallen into his trap.

"No, but I believe I would make a better addition to your red Templar's." I stated hoarsely. I was trying to use reason if he had an ounce left.

"You want to join us?" He smirked.

"Yes. I am sick of being used and abused, us Templar's deserve better." I stated knowing this may actually get through to him given how he felt about the abuses of the chantry.

He seemed swayed, and in that fraction of a second he side stepped me and plunged a blade through the poor girl behind me. She gasped her death swift but agonizing, I had turned swiftly enough only to see the poor girl’s expression, her eyes wide with fear, her pained expression. She had taken behind me in the hope I could protect her, another to add to a list of people I had failed. I heard the other villagers gasp, someone must have motioned forward, as one of the beasts charged across the room. It's footsteps were heavy. All I heard was a man declare "You can't do this, she was innocent."

Silence followed by a thud, then panicked screams. Samson called for order. "Silence." He roared. "We need some of them alive." He chided his beast. His poor choice of words led to greater panic until Samson added "If you insist on running around and screaming. I will just leave you to my men, they need a bit of target practice."

The beasts roared after their roars echoed silence fell once more.

"Was that necessary?" I seethed. Tightening my grip on my blade. Tears threatened to form in my eyes, the tightness in my throat was painful, more so because of his earlier handiwork.

"You were right, she wouldn't stand a chance. I did her a favor, a quick death."

"Remind me not to ask you for a favor," I remarked, my pain and anger barely being held at bay. I balled my hands into tight fists, forcing the metallic covers of the fingers into my skin. I could not look at the poor girl any longer, I struggled to turn away.

"Trust me you will wish I had killed you, the red lyrium trial is painful, most don't survive it."

I said nothing. I just tried to hold to an air of confidence, not show any sign of weakness. At least I knew what to expect from red lyrium. It seemed Samson was a little more unpredictable.

Samson pointed the beast by the door to me. He stumbled over to me; he looked as if he was in agony with each step. He gripped my arm and led me toward the door.

I didn't want to leave him to these villagers, I feared to turn my back, but it was no longer through choice. "What are you going to do with them?" I asked wearily as I passed Samson.

"They may not be red Templar material, but we have other uses for them. But that doesn’t concern you."

He looked furious that I had questioned him, I was dragged out unwillingly. My heart lurched turning my back on these poor villagers, it was still light out, but the chill in air suggested evening was fast approaching, the darkness had already taken this village. I heard Samson offer "Do we have any other recruits?"

No one replied. But someone must have done something as screams of agony and terror rang out behind me. I trying to pull away, but I could not even turn in the beasts grip, this kind of power in the wrong hands, what was the maker doing? this was not right. Not many of the villagers came out of the tavern, only a small group of ten were corralled out. The silence that reigned within the tavern worried me, I was tempted to turn back and see what had become of them. I suppose I knew, but I was hoping there was some humanity in him.

He saw me reaching for the door. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. We are returning to camp." He left no room to negotiate, it was an order.

We were forced to walk for miles, some of the older villagers struggled to keep pace, I wanted desperately to aid them. My heart lurched each time one of his beasts was forced to drag someone poor exhausted villager along, as you could hear their terrified screams.

We happened upon a camp, none of us were happy to see it, as this was no respite, this was their doom, and likely mine as well but I would do all I could to undermine them well I lived. There were many tents set up. The camp was a sight, as it may have looked like any other encampment except it was well populated with beasts, behemoths, and strange men whose arms were spikes of pure lyrium all looked to our arrival. Under their red glare even I tensed. The poor villager's eyes widened, they had not known true terror until this moment. The men we passed were like a possible glimpse into my future, all in different stages of lyrium corruption, some still had a human appearance, but looked ill, and had a red glow about them, then the extreme of the behemoths. Could I become one of those things?

I looked to those in step behind me, they were dragged off to the right, I was told to remain.

I stood in an eerie silence that was only broken by the wheezing of the beasts. Samson returned, he looked annoyed. "One recruit." He grumbled. So, they were still struggling to remake their numbers after Haven. We had already dealt them a blow. "Well let’s get you your first dose of the red lyrium. We need to see how you take to it before deciding on your daily doses."

He handed me a dose of red lyrium that strange song seemed to emanate from the red glow, it had a strange allure to it. I felt a small craving that was new; I had never felt that with normal lyrium. I looked at it like it was a foreign object.

"Come on it’s just like taking the blue stuff, only in holds more promise." The craving had caught me off guard, it frightened me a little. ‘Does this mean I was susceptible?.’

"Bloody take it before I force it down your throat." Samson ordered getting fed up of my stalling.

I took my second dose of red lyrium, the burning was less, and the pain eased a little faster. I held to a mask of indifference. Little did he know I had known what to expect, luckily for me the effect if any was minimal.

I watched the red lyrium work its way into my blood, Samson’s eyes were set upon me. When there was no response he grew annoyed.

"What's going on?" He exclaimed, feeling cheated by the calm exuding from me. "This is not how the trial runs. There should have been some reaction. Even the toughest of my men struggled."  
"I was resistant to the side effects of normal lyrium, I can only guess I am lucky enough for it to carry over to red lyrium." I confessed.

"Hmm. You may be more useful than I first thought." he looked to me thoughtfully.

"Is that a vote of confidence general?" I had not intended it to sound so sarcastic.

"You need to learn to hold your tongue. Unless you want to have to cut it out." he warned.

I merely bowed in response, I knew I shouldn't continue to antagonize him, so I fell silent. I feared soon he would call for a demonstration of my loyalty. I dare not guess what form this test would take, but given his demeanor, I could imagine.

"Come. You can watch the entertaining effects of red lyrium."

I just followed after him. The villagers were all lined up for the same dose, and one at a time, as if to show the others what they were in for. The first man they had to force the dose as he refused. I commended his bravery in my head, but I saw that defiance fade as the lyrium burned its way through him. He howled in agony, I could not watch. But sadly I could not plug my ears. I could hear him suffering drowning in his own body, he couldn't breathe. I was so disgusted by the whole display that I began to pray 'if you are there maker, please get him to breathe.'

As if a slap in the face he fell silent, and did not move. My cheeks burned, how could I endure standing by like this, it was killing me now, and this was just the beginning.

"You’re missing the show." Samson declared grabbing my face and forcing me to watch every town’s person suffer. Some survived but they were in agony, I felt tears splash down my cheeks unbidden.

My heart hammered in my chest; I needed to wipe them away. Samson saw me, I expected he would admonish me for it, but he said "Don't worry they serve a higher cause, you will see. This is our second chance. Your passion will be of great use in our cause, but you need to toughen up, I know it's difficult to watch."

He truly believed every word, I thought him insane. But there was a glimmer of humanity there, this I could work with. I had been foolish enough to risk his wrath once, I would not do so again. The evening seemed to last an eternity filled with the cries of agony of the poor townsfolk, their suffering called to my conscience, but I could not be discovered, I need to know more, and gain intel I could send back to the inquisition.  
I did not wish to speak to Samson, but I found myself at a lost for somewhere to sleep, as none of the beasts and behemoths needed sleep, but the lyrium had not strengthened me as promised, it had done quite the opposite. Maybe the exhaustion was a product of my body fighting off the corruption, I had never been told what made us so immune to the usual side effects.

I nervously approached Samson's tent, he looked lost in thought, so I waited until he noticed my presence. He opened his eyes, looking down at me. "What is it?"

"It seems I am the only one here who currently still needs sleep. Where will I sleep?" I pressed.

"Take one of the behemoths beds, they have no need of it, they are beyond requiring sleep every day. You will be strong soon." He stated in assurance.

But to me that was no assurance, that was just what I was hoping wouldn't happen, I needed to remain myself to be of any use to the inquisition. And I did not wish to become that monster from my nightmares.

I wondered the camp, it was not difficult to spot the behemoths given their monstrous size and labored breath. I edged around the beast, looking to what had once been their tent. They had been human once, that saddened me. I took to the cot that had been long abandoned, it was barely holding together, some of their changes must have been experienced right here. I did not think in such a place I would be able to rest, but it had been a long trying day, and my body and mind had had enough.

I jolted awake, the dawn had barely begun to light the sky. I dragged myself up and swayed a little upon standing. My continued nightmares had left my weary and having to see what a feared becoming the moment I stepped out did nothing for my frayed nerves. When I felt steady enough to move I stepped forward. I walked cautiously toward Samson's tent, he was not here. I wondered out into the midst of camp, not feeling at home or safe among the red Templar's. I waited impatiently. The sun had now taken residence in the sky, the darkness chased away, still no sign of Samson. Where could he be?


	5. A test of loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan finds that her loyalty to the red templars is to be tested

The Templar horrors and soldiers seemed to have boundless patience, or no emotion registered with them anymore, I couldn’t be sure. I, however, did not. Especially for tasks I would rather not do. I was restless.

  
I stormed over to General Samson’s tent, the only fellows I saw as I raced forward were the horrors who merely grunted an acknowledgment, anything more was beyond them now. But they could take orders and fight. I was not sure what to expect when I reached the generals tent I heard groaning, at first I thought maybe he was injured, so I ventured closer wearily, the groans becoming louder and I realized that they sounded more like sexual groaning. I was now sure, and it made me wish I had not come over in such haste.

  
I felt a familiar throbbing between my legs, I missed sex. I was no virgin but it had certainly been a while, so much so that even Samson’s cries stirred me. I shook my head disgusted with myself. I tried to leave before anyone noticed me but a dalish elven woman sauntered out stuffing notes into her top, her outfit left little to the imagination. I felt a greater sense of embarrassment when she gave me a wide smile, then wandered off.  
I was a little taken back that Samson was paying for sex, I had known men who did so but I had never seen the transaction, it made me feel a little dirty for witnessing it. I must have lingered too long as Samson called out. “What do you want?”  
I slowly approached the tent, I felt relieved to see at least he had his pants on. I stepped inside. I shouldn’t have been surprised but his toned torso was something to be admired, my eyes lingered for a moment.  
“You here for a show or did you need something?” He pressed growling under his breath.

 

“My apologies general I wondered when we would be moving out? I was unaware you were otherwise engaged.” I felt warmth in my cheeks.

  
“Bloody hell love, surely you have seen your fair share of cock, there is no need to be so bloody embarrassed. Or maybe I am wrong, maybe you prefer the ladies. Either way, I have no time for romance, and I prefer a willing partner so this serves its purpose. The red hasn't killed me off yet.”

  
“I understand sir, I will wait outside.”

  
He looked amused at my anxious expression; it seemed as if he decided to continue trying to force a greater blush across my cheeks.

  
“Wait a moment. I forget I am not the only human in the camp now, maybe next time I will pick you up something. Just curious as to your preference?”

  
“What does this matter? We have work to do.” I tried to end the conversation, but this only seemed to encourage him.

  
He walked over, pulling alarmingly close. “So what is it you fancy?” He continued drawing closer until I had no more room to back up, I could feel the wooden frame of the cot pressing into the back of my legs. He leaned in, I leaned back. He burst out laughing and backed away. I finally had room to breathe. He was intimidating, that was why my pulse quickened, and why I needed to steady my breathing, or that's what I told myself.

  
I pulled up, feeling foolish. I walked out and returned to the midst of the camp.

  
Samson followed soon after in full armor. It was only then that the soldiers and horrors seemed to react, their eyes looked to him with what I could only guess was some sort of reverence, some of their expressions were hard to read as their features were distorted by lyrium growths.

  
“One of main Lyrium supply lines in under threat. Our new recruit here will be joining you on this run. You will take your orders from lieutenant Cruise, I will be watching from a distance. Do not disappoint me, save the supply, and make sure any written communications don’t make it into the wrong hands.”

  
Cruise handed me a blade and shield. “Hope you’re an adept fighter.”

  
“I was one of the best in Kirkwall. Sir,” I remarked with confidence.

  
“Good. Finally giving me some useful recruits, Samson,” He joked.

  
“Only the best here. The world won’t know what him ‘em.” Samson returned with pride as he surveyed his troops.

  
“Move out,” Cruise called to me, the soldiers and Horrors Samson had afforded us for this run.

  
This would be my test of loyalty; I kept hoping this would run smoothly. A few bandits would be no match for the beasts in step at my side. It was strange to look to them as my comrades in arms, not my enemy. Their heavy breath clouded the crisp air as we marched into the thick of the Emerald Graves, traveling to the smuggler's encampment. The less beastly templar soldiers took point with Lieutenant Cruise, one final man held the back line. They were ever watchful with their eyes ablaze with the red. The thought of it made my mouth water.I was thirsty but for lyrium. I swallowed hard, the edge returned, making me feel restless.

  
We marched for hours in silence, I was trying not to let the craving take away my focus, drawing upon my templar training to steal my burning nerves. I took a deep breath, seeing the smugglers awaiting us. Three of them, two with swords and shields, this was hardly well guarded, I hoped there were archers I was missing. "Sir, I see the rebel force approaching."

  
Cruise looked off in the distance. I looked to the direction in which the soldier pointed, they were but dots on the horizon, the red lyrium must afford them a greater perspective.

  
"Should we attack?" He pressed, itching to take his shaky hand to his blade. He was clearly struggling with the effects of the red.

  
"No. Hold. I will see if I can reason with them," Cruise stated.

  
I could see his jaw tighten just beneath his helm, he nodded and dropped his shaky hands to his sides. And we continued to march forward, they did not question his orders, they just followed.

  
As I drew closer I could see it was the inquisitor, Sera, Iron Bull and Vivienne. Shit. ‘That bastard probably knew it was them and he didn’t tell me’, this was going to be hell. I would have to prove my loyalty to him by fighting the inquisition.

  
We marched forward when the inquisitor motioned closer to the lyrium. We walked up behind the smugglers just as she stated “We only wish to know where this is coming from, and how much there is? We have no wish to harm you.”

  
Cruise tapped the smuggler upon the shoulder. He jumped, turning to see Cruise, myself and a group of red Templar’s; he looked both frightened and relieved. “I am glad to see my business is valued enough to send protection against these rebels.”

  
“Get going, and don’t forget your loyalty,” Cruise warned him. I stood beside him holding to an intimidating stance, putting on a convincing show.

  
The smuggler and his small guard began to retreat his wide eyes upon my men, we held the line not affording the inquisitor the chance to follow. The beasts and soldiers held a steely gaze upon each member before them, we outnumbered them. But I knew the people before me, they were not to be underestimated.

  
“You are ruining my investigation. My commander stated this was a red lyrium source, I need to talk to the smugglers, please see reason.”

  
My heart lurched at the thought of Cullen; I furrowed my brow to hide looking as though she had just slapped me across the face. I had to get this over with as quickly as possible, the less said the better.

  
"This is our property you have no right to it, nor do you have the right to harass my contacts. Do not step on my toes inquisitor. I will not tolerate any interference in our plan." Cruise warned.

  
Had I not been uncover I would have seen him as a man to be respected, he was clear and confident, truly beliving in his cause. I evnied those whose faith was not so easily shaken. The inquistor looked to me, and repeated her request, looking me in the eye, it was difficult to hold her gaze as I knew what I would have to do and say, and it would all be painful to say.

  
“You know I can’t do that, General's orders,” I finally responded.

  
“Samson? Where is he?” The inquisitor pressed attempting to appeal to me again.

  
It was difficult to remain indifferent to them. But I remained stoic. It became difficult once Iron Bull and Sera chimed in playing their parts a little too well. “I am partial to red heads how about you join us?.” Iron Bull looked to me with a sly grin. He was amusing himself. I had to hold back the smile that threatened to cross my face ruining the mask of indifference. 

  
“I guess that one eye isn’t working as well as you thought. I wouldnt turn upon my brothers.” I returned feeling ashamed by my response. I was unsure who I said that for but I was acting the part of a villain.

  
"Don't address my soldiers, if you have anything of use to say direct it to me." Cruise stated harshly to the inquitor, then squaring up to Ironbull, matching him in height and stature.

  
My breath caught in my throat, I thought this was about to go badly. I tensed preparing to go to Bull's aid, when I recalled what side I was on, or had to appear to be on. Luckily Cruise was rational enough to feel his point proven with a show of dominance, if he had chosen to demonstrate power, I am not sure Bull could have stood his fury.

  
“I can’t believe you would rather fight for that thing.” Sera spat at us ignoring the glare of my commanding officer.

  
“Are you going to do the smart thing and walk away?" Cruise offered.

  
“I can’t let you take that lyrium.”

  
“You read my mind inquisitor, you read my mind," Cruise remarked. It was difficult seeing the anger, the hatred, and disappointment on their faces. The cruelty of my own words was painful enough but now I would have to engage them in battle. I did not want to hurt any of them.

  
"If you will not see reason, you give us no choice."

  
Cruise ordered us to attack, this gave me a chance to grab the communications, all of them and force them into a hidden pocket on the under my breastplate. I managed to take the crate; I pulled it into my arms. Turning to see if I was safe to move. I shouldn’t have looked back. My eyes widened, the red Templar’s were struggling to catch Sera. Iron bull was struggling to hold off Cruise who was bearing down upon him testing his strength. The inquisitor and Vivienne were upon the ground at the mercy of the beasts. “Got it," I cried.

  
I looked to Cruise, he was intent upon crushing Iron Bull until Sera began to turn the tide, landing well-placed arrows in our soldiers, as they dropped to ground injured, I did the only thing I could to hold to my credibility. Before Sera could land any fatal blows, I charged across the field matching her speed, throwing my Sheild up protecting the men from the arrows. I was dragging them to safety. Getting an arrow in the back of my own leg for my trouble. "Shit," I hissed through gritted teeth.  
I heard Sera declare "Yes I hit another." She cried with such cheer.

  
I continuing pulling them to safety with great difficulty. Cruise saw that we were losing the battle, my distraction of crying out had distracted the poor beasts from their targets briefly but long enough for both the inquisitor and Viviene to be upon their feet killing two of the beasts. I felt a strange sense of sorrow as he almost sounded like they yelped under the barrage of spells before they could dispell the inquisitor, Viviene was knocking them off kilter.

  
Cruise called for retreat, lifting me roughly not caring for the pain it caused, tossing me across his shoulder like a burden to bare. This was torturous as he kept knocking the arrow, forcing me to grit my teeth as the agony shot through my leg like a new arrow was lodged in my thigh. The inquisitor and her colleagues were kept busy by the remaining horrors who were sacrificed for us to escape; I pitied them as they fell. 'Did they even know what they were fighting for? Or were they blindly assured like Samson?'

  
Ensuring we were not followed he dragged me into camp, dropping me to ground in Samson's tent. I was left in heap at his feet, I didn't want to look up at him, but I found I had no choice.

  
"Bloody useless, first time out and you get shot by a lackey of the inquisitor."

  
"I got what you asked for. What does the rest matter?!"

I languished upon the ground, trying in vain to drag myself across the floor. He growled in annoyance "Pathetic." He spat. I felt his arms pull under me, lifting me with more care than Cruise. He placed me down, keeping my injured leg bent as not to cause more damage. "We don't have a healer as the red lyrium speeds up the healing process, but it hasn't quite taken with you. You're going to have to suffer my rough touch." He warned me just as he snapped the ends of the arrow, and pulled it out quickly.  
The pain forced me to tense and feel a wave of nausea take me. I was mildly dizzy for a moment. "I could have done with a warning," I exclaimed in a pained voice.

  
"It wouldn't have helped. I will have to give you a greater dose of lyrium, strange for the resistance of one to cross to the other, they are so different. I wonder what makes you resistant?" He stated with a mild curiosity.

  
When he drew a blade I flinched. He laughed to himself, removing the leg plate, then taking the blade to the leg of my pants cutting away the material to get to injury. "We don't have much beyond elfroot for pain so you will have to make do with that. It looks like a pretty clean shot, I can't see any additional damage, you are quite lucky. I will get you that elfroot, and a stronger dose of lyrium."

  
I did not feel lucky, when he disappeared I felt anxiety rise within me, upping my dose already, shit I shouldn't have been so careless. I tried to steal my nerves when he returned lyrium in hand. I felt myself craving it, the sight of it awakened my senses and they all focused upon the red lyruim. I pulled up, taking the dose to my lips drinking it swiftly under his watchful gaze. I swallowed hard as the warm liquid rushed down my throat. I had drawn my eyes away for a moment.  
"There is more." He stated pointedly. I found a second dose pressed to my hand, and I took this with the same haste. I had barely managed to recover from the heat rushing through me from the first dose. The second felt as painful as my first dose had, my veins were a flame, I couldn't find my breath.

  
I was gasping for air by the time the pain began to dull, sweat glazing my brow. I took deep controlling breaths. The pain was not over, as I watched him remove his armored gloves, pouring a small bottle of what was clearly alcohol over his hands, the strong smell lingered in the air. He proceeded to take a green poultice in hand. Shaking the thick ooze from the vial, covering his fingers, which he pushed inside the hole the arrow had created on both sides of my leg. I gripped the sides of the cot in an effort to fight back the cry of pain threatening to surface; my face was burning up from the strain of fighting back the pain and corruption.

  
I had barely recovered from the red lyruim and burning in my thigh when he passed me a vial of a thick green liquid. "Drink it. It will help with the pain." I took the vial and drank the vile liquid at speed trying to avoid tasting it. But the bitter aftertaste took to my tongue and led me to screw my eyes in disgust.

  
I heard Samson laugh before declaring "Yeah it's disgusting but it will help," “The documents from the smugglers hand them over." He ordered.

  
I pulled them free of my pocket and handed them to him. He checked all was there before he cast them into the fire, I assume to assure the other locations remained secret.

  
"What is this?" Samson exclaimed.

  
I tried desperately not to react when I saw him holding the coin Cullen had given me, how could I be so careless. I wasn't thinking clearly. This risked my cover, what if he had seen Cullen with it?

  
I had to appear nonchalant. "Oh, that old thing. It is just a keepsake for luck," I told a half truth. He seemed to accept this, so I could assume he hadn’t seen it before or was hiding his reaction well.

  
"You no longer have a need for such things; leave the past where it is. You have a new purpose." He cast it into the fire.

  
I felt frozen in place, I wanted to run over to the fire and pull it out, Cullen would be devastated, as was I watching it melt before my eyes. I watched Samson walk out with the lyrium in hand. I waited until he was gone, I lay back and cried. I grasped my hand tightly over my mouth as to not let a whimper escape, breathing heavily into my palm, I sobbed 'please forgive me, I am so sorry.' I whispered into the ether. I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears, I felt in that moment completely alone, surrounded by the enemy.

  
Samson wondered back in, a small blade in hand. "I have a job for you. You can extract the new lyrium. Can't get shot doing that." He taunted.

  
"Extract the lyrium?" I echoed unsure of what he meant.

  
"From the townsfolk," He added plainly as if he had asked me to a simple task. Not cut into people to remove lyruim.

  
"They have lyrium in them?" I narrowed my eyes not sure I had heard him correctly.

  
"Yes, red lyruim in a way lives, so it grows faster in a living host. Ingenious is it not?"

  
That was not the word that came to mind. Cullen's keepsake must truly have been lucky as only moments after I had foolishly lost it I had been given a horrific task. How could I cut into an innocent living person to remove lyrium from them?

  
Samson must have seen my hesitance, as I felt my heart start when I heard him state. "I have to push you, Corypheus will not accept weakness. This is the only way I am afraid, just know it will be worth it, it is a mercy to release them from their pain."

  
I took the blade from his hand, I hobbled free of Samson's tent. I had not expected him to notice my pain and hesitance. The pain had dulled, but it was still agonizing to move. So I took the weight to my uninjured leg, dragging my other leg along. This helped little. I paused and I found myself looking at the bloodstained blade, it was made for this purpose, I was not. How many things would I have to do before this was at its end, whatever that end would be, how would this change me?  
I found myself hobbling aimlessly through the camp, I looked around me noticing a tent out on its own, how had I missed that? My curiosity and need to delay the horrible task at hand drew me toward the tent. I could hear a crash of hammer to metal 'they had a blacksmith?' I guess Samson's troops got their armor somewhere. I hobbled in pushing aside the material, feeling the heat of a forge hit me as I stepped in, the smell of metal thick upon the air. The smith barely looked up from his work, only to assure himself I was no threat. I waited for him to finish, he was swift and talented, and meticulous, not wasting a drop of metal.

  
His glazed eyes cast to me, but the face I recognized him from the gallows "Maddox?"

  
My heart leapt for a moment thinking a friendly face, but as I saw him more clearly I felt my hopes were dashed. "Yes." He declared in a monotone, no recognition in his eyes.

  
I recognized that symbol emblazoned on his forehead, they had made him tranquil, I felt my blood boil with the injustice of it. "I can't believe they did this to you. Do you even remember me?"

  
His eyes cast a dead gaze upon me and in a flat tone replied, "I broke the rules. Yes, I recall you."

  
I was wondering whether any of the questions flooding my mind were appropriate, not that it would matter to him now, they had effectively killed him, none of what made Maddox who he was had remained, he was just a husk following orders emotionlessly. I wanted to hug him, but it would afford neither of us the comfort I sought.

  
I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Samson bark, "What are you doing in here, recruit?"

  
I turned with difficulty, his brow furrowed, his lips curled in a snarl. "I am sorry sir I let my curiosity get the better of me."

  
"You are a soldier, focus on the task given." He hissed.

  
"Yes, Sir. Goodbye, Maddox. It was nice... to see you again," I realized my words were as hollow as his as it was not nice to see him in such a way but I couldn't convey this to him, he was gone.

  
"Goodbye, Bethan," He returned flatly. I was about to turn and leave when Samson held up his hand to stop me.

  
"You two knew each other?" Samson pressed his eyes narrowing upon me, then Maddox.

  
"Yes." Maddox did not think to add more until Samson pressed.

  
"How do you recall her?" Samson pressed looking to him with a patience and kindness I had only seen glimpses of, being a soldier I supposed I wouldn't see much of it.

  
"She was an ally to mages." He recalled with no emotion connected to the memory.

  
For a moment I wished I too could be disconnected from the worst of my memories in Kirkwall. "Ally to mages?" Samson echoed as if it was a foreign concept. "Is that why the templar’s cast you aside?" He looked at me intently. He did not wait for an answer before he added, "Well we have more in common than I realized. The order will be remade without the leash of the damn chantry. The order won't realize what it threw away with you, you have worth here. Now follow your orders."

  
I had hoped that the distraction from the task at hand would last longer, but I had been told twice, Samson only seemed to afford me leniency because of Maddox. He would not afford me it a third time, but his impassioned speech spoke of a man who had believed once and was now bitter and desperate for things to change. I would have to find a way to report my findings to the inquisition. I was reminded, yet again of my task, and that there would be more innocent blood on my hands.my hands.


	6. The harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan takes to the painful task of harvesting the red lyrium

I had no way to escape this loathsome task beyond blowing my cover and I was tempted to run, or stagger out of this camp and never look back. I was to harvest lyrium from people. I had never expected that being undercover in the red Templar's would have me hip deep in innocent blood so soon. I was in the deep end and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep my head above water. 

I approached the tent from which the weak but pained groans still emanated. When I pulled back the material, it revealed the townsfolk. The state they were in shocked me. Standing among the terrified villagers, their pain was evident upon their faces. Their cheeks were covered with fresh and dried tears, their skin was no longer healthy, it was jaundiced, and gaunt. Bloodied lyrium growths protruded through their fingers. I took my hand to my mouth, glad that no one could see me now. As I moved amidst them feeling horrified and saddened, one man caught my arm and with whatever strength he had left with him he begged. "Please kill me. I can take no more, it is tearing me apart inside. I can feel it."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked upon the bloodied mess that had once been a human being. I could not believe this was what I was reduced to. On some twisted level I almost hoped the Maker had abandoned us, then there would be no one witnessing the atrocities I would now have to perform. I struggled to steady my hand; all I could offer this man was a quick death, to think it painless would only be deluding myself. When Samson had told me that this was a mercy, I assumed he intended me to end their suffering. And given the state they were in death could be the only mercy left for them. I took a deep breath, taking the sharp blade across his throat, cutting deep. His grip upon my hand tightened as he choked upon his own blood, I was forced to look into his eyes, and I did not like what I saw. Samson may have told me it was a mercy, but that was not how it felt. We had done this to them. I felt like a villain, a hand of this dark spawn doing his bidding. I did not believe like Samson did, any faith I had was fading with the light in each villagers eyes. Ending their suffering only added to my own.

I repeated this horrific act of supposed mercy upon every last villager in that tent. I could barely keep my hand steady upon the blade. But I had to keep my hand steady enough as not to add to their suffering. The last words, the pleas for help were soul-crushing enough, and now had to desecrate the dead, pull the lyrium from them, it had grown at a spectacular rate. I returned to the first villager, closing my eyes as I plunged the blade into his chest, dragging it back. My eyes flashed open, the lyrium had taken root within him. I turned away as I the bile rose swiftly. The vomit burned my throat as it rushed free. The sight was so sickening that my stomach turned over. How would I continue? Show Samson I was truly a red Templar if I could not follow orders. I did not believe in anything. It was impossible to see the maker in this.

I made several attempts to continue to harvest the lyrium, but I found I had to throw up readily at the sight and smell. I had barely managed to take all I could from the poor villager. I tried to remind myself he was dead, he didn't care. But that did not help, it felt so wrong. I had to rush from the tent for fresh air. I scrambled away my injured leg making it an awkward and painful rush into the woods surrounding us. Red Templar's watched me, did they suffer as I did or had the lyrium seen to that. I was tempted to take another dose of lyrium. Maybe it would take this pain away.

I pressed my head to the hard bark, it was cool but abrasive against my furrowed brow. I wanted to cry, I wanted to recover myself and return stronger. Was I too weak to handle the task I had chosen to take on? I took deep slow breaths. 

A red Templar standing aside the tree stated. "Are you okay?"

I was startled by his sudden intrusion into my heavy thoughts. I did not recognize him but his expression appeared to be genuine concern. “I am fine,” I declared knowing I looked a little worse for wear, but I appeared less troubled than I was only moments ago.

 

“It is not easy work. Trust me I know. But you know if there was any other way Samson would have found it,” He spoke of the General with a reverence I had seen upon their faces each time he spoke, they believed he truly cared for them. “I know you are injured. Do you need aid back to camp?”

“No, I am fine,” I stated pointedly.

“Hold to that fire and pride it will help. I will escort you back then should you need to lean upon me you may do so,” He offered. So there was humanity left within some of the less corrupted Templar’s. “I should introduce myself. My name is Wystan.”

It was bizarre to go from butchery to small talk. “Bethan.”

“Samson is not pushing you out of cruelty...” He paused as if expecting me to speak but when I remained silent he continued. “He knows if Corypheus sees you reacting as you do now, he will kill you. He has killed soldiers for less. Samson does not want any of us to come to harm. He saved me. I was near madness when he brought me back. I was gone, the chantry, and the Templar's did not care for all they had wrought upon me, but Samson cared. Most of us here owe our lives to him. He cares for the plight of Templar’s. He would not see us fall to ruin."

I did not know what to make of his impassioned speech; I could still only see the blood covering my hands. I felt material drop against my hands. "Wipe them clean, and know that before the end more blood will be spilled. The world could not go on as it was," I took the material in hand and wiped the blood from my shaking hands, even when the blood was gone they did not feel clean, and never would again. 

"You should take the lyrium to stores when you are done. Have faith Bethan."

I almost laughed derisively, have faith? Whatever I had once believed felt like it had been broken and I had no idea what to do with the pieces. I did not reveal my inner turmoil instead I forced a smile. Before Wystan left I was forced to ask. “"Where is the store's tent?"

He pointed to a tent aside Samson's, I nodded. I returned to the scene of my crime. The silence threatened to swallow me up.

Faith was one thing I was no longer sure of. I did not feel any less conflicted, but I returned to the task at hand. Once my hands were covered in blood, I became methodical; on autopilot was the only way I could manage to get through it. By the time I was done, the tent was a wretched sight. The last show of respect I could give them would be a burial, this was almost impossible, but I pushed my injured leg, and by the time the job was done, I looked upon ten deep graves. The pain tearing through my thigh was a good distraction from the mental anguish, it felt wrong to say a prayer but it was all I could think to do. Exhausted and destroyed, I only wanted to sleep. My leg was barely co-operating I had pushed it too far.

My toil was not at an end, I picked up the lyrium placing it into the wooden crate left in the tent. The box had many layers of dried blood what was a new one. I filled it and carried it to the storage tent. That was the moment that the pain and anguish became craving, the lure of that song within the warm glow of the red. I stretched out a hand to the red stones the heat that radiated of them was consuming. I breathed in the vapor. It was not enough, just one more dose and I would be rid of this infernal suffering.

"Be careful. Don’t let it rule you. We control it. The power is gained not taken." Samson’s voice called in a cool confident manner.

I dragged my crazed eyes from the red stones before me, trying to ignore their call. "That is a good addition to what we had lost. You did well today. However, do not force me to repeat an order. Do you understand me?"

I nodded and drew back my hand, turning to leave. My injured leg finally gave way. I dropped to the ground. I saw Samson’s hand stretched out before me, I ignored it, and tried to drag myself up, screaming in agony as I forced the injured muscle to work harder than it could handle. Samson snatched my hand and helped me up, only releasing me when I was steady enough. Fresh tears of agony trickled down my face. "Don't be foolish recruit. When you need aid there is no shame in taking it," he chided.

I was angry and exhausted. I did not say what I wanted to say, all I did manage to say was "I have a name General."

"I am your general, not your friend. Rest up, we are moving out tomorrow." He did not offer to help me out, but he kept a wary eye upon me.

Wystan the Templar from earlier stopped me again as I attempted to return to my tent. "Eat something, and drink this lest your teeth rot."

I think that may have been humor, I did not care for it. But I took the food offered as my stomach was pained and empty; the hunger had not register until this moment. I was surprised I was able to eat and keep it down. The bread was a little tough but I didn’t care. The soup was lumpy but it took the edge of the hunger. I swilled my mouth out. I drank the rest of the water in haste, wincing as initially the raw skin burned. It soothed my throat. Weary as I was, I dragged to sit at a fire side with the red Templar’s who still held something of themselves. 

Wystan introduced me to my fellows “This burly fellow is Blake,” he merely nodded. “This brooding one here is Kenrick,” Kenrick looked startled to note a new person before him. The distant look faded as he smiled. “This is Bethan. She is a new recruit, thought it would do her some good to meet her brothers in arms,” He added cheerily.

It had been easier to hate the red Templar’s when they were nameless and faceless. I found they had stories like any normal soldiers. Their lives had not been easy ones, cast aside by the very organization they had dedicated their lives to. They needed something to believe again, and Samson had been the only one to even notice they existed or mattered in a long time. This saddened me but also made me feel for Samson as he must see himself in these lost souls. Some were struggling with the red; the nervous twitching revealed their need. I felt a similar edge growing. Amidst my worries, and fears I envied them. They believed in something were I had no longer had any idea what I believed. When I could barely hold my eyes open, I excused myself taking the hand offered by the Templar across from me.

I made it to my tent, dropping upon my cot, fears rushing through my mind. I was feeling the pull of the red lyrium, and how long could I keep taking it before I was corrupted? When would I find a chance to send word to the inquisition? On all I knew now, some of it would be valuable. I had to steel my nerves; this was for the greater good. I was here to do the right thing, not be caught or corrupted. That was my final thought before darkness took me.

The nightmares continued to torture me with images of becoming a behemoth; I pulled up weary and pained but focused on finally giving the inquisition word they were waiting upon. It was early the birds chirped in the distance as if they feared to perch near our encampment, I didn’t blame them. They must be able to sense the corruption.  
I left my tent and wondered toward the woods. I saw elfroot as I ventured further out. I took care in pulling the plant free from the ground. This would be a perfect cover for my absence. As I pulled to the border my hands were brimming with elfroot. A crow perched high upon a tree looked down at me inquisitively, a parchment to carry word around its leg. I found a pointed feather in one of my hidden pockets. I only lacked ink, so I was forced to use blood. It worked just as well. The small pain was nothing compared to what I had already suffered. I apprised them of the way they grew lyrium, and Maddox crafting armor. And our movements thus far, I also wrote I was okay, which for now remained a tentative truth.

Once I reattached the scroll and watched the bird fly away, I felt a flash of envy. I too wanted to fly away, but I had a duty to Thedas and those who had suffered at the hands of the red Templar’s. This was the only thing giving me any ability to focus.

I began a slow return. My leg was starting to ache. Upon my return elfroot in my arms, I was shocked to see Samson and Wystan looking toward the woods frantically, both concentrated yet confused. When they caught sight of me they tore over. “Where did you go?” Samson pressed with a suspicious look in his eyes.  
“I saw we were low on elfroot, and I know new recruits and myself will require it.”

“Why were you gone so long?” He continued his line of questioning, still not convinced.

“Elfroot grows further out, and my leg does not aid my speed. I apologize. I thought it would help sir, should I not have done so?”

“It was good to see you using your initiative. Wystan here said he was concerned about... So I thought that maybe...” He did not continue, he simply waved me through, then added, “We will be moving out momentarily.”

We continued deeper into the Emerald graves, I suffered as I tried to hold pace with the others. I grinned and bared it, I was glad when he finally called a stop, as they set up camp, I took a moment to recover myself. Once they had themselves set up, Samson called me to his tent. I followed after him like an obedient dog fearful of its owner. I stopped short of running into the back of him. He passed me two doses of lyrium, I took them consecutively, craving the warmth, and calm it gave me. It did not last but it soothed my nerves while sharpening them for a time, but I was not stronger, nor was I corrupted, I was taking it while gaining no benefit. The fire was not so overwhelming; it did not burn as hot. I placed the vials upon the table, Samson scrutinized my face for signs of the red lyrium taking hold, his eyes remained narrowed upon me. "Still nothing," he exclaimed in frustration.  
"How may I serve today sir?" I stated hastily, knowing I couldn't linger too close the lyrium for too long.

"Your injury limits what you are able to do. So you can mix the elfroot poultices and potions so any suffering can be seen to swiftly."

"Yes sir." I was thankful for the pain shooting through my thigh, finally a task that was less than reprehensible, this I could do.

I took to the assigned medical tent, finding elfroot and distillation liquids, and a well-made burner to blend the mashed elfroot with the distillation liquid. They lack the means to make a concentrator, but I knew of ingredients that could make one, I only need to find them. I knew this time it would be wise to ask for permission lest they think me missing.

I returned to the General's tent, he did not look pleased to see me. "What is it?"

"I thought I should I request permission to seek out ingredients to strengthen the healing potions, given the pain suffered initially and during the change it would make things easier for the recruits. I excelled in herbalism as a Templar."

His stony gaze softened. "That is where you will be of use until your leg heals. Aid those who suffer, yourself included, do not think your hard work has gone unnoticed, you have pushed yourself, you are as tough as any here."

"Yes, sir."

I was not sure whether the praise was genuine as he had looked less than enthused upon seeing my face, so I just smiled and nodded. I left the tent thankful I would have a moment away from the death, and anguish. Maybe the beauty of the natural world would give me the peace of mind I was hoping for, but this was dashed when I saw Wystan running over. "I am to accompany you, get the job done faster."

"I know what I am looking for."

"I am only to here to help, every new recruit has an aid, sorry I didn't get the chance to greet you when you got here." he smiled.

I couldn't refuse his aid without appearing suspicious, and getting to know my fellow recruits could not hurt. "Okay I will describe certain plants and flowers to you, and if they should be beyond my reach I will ask you to get them for me."  
He nodded. "What made you take to herbalism?"

"I wished to be a healer, it was foolish given my entire family was Templar's."

"It is an admirable dream. I wanted to protect people from the dangers of magic. I saw first-hand the damage it can cause."

"I am sorry to hear that," I offered in condolence.

"I was a difficult time, and sadly once I started taking lyrium my Templar service was short lived as my mind faded fast, affects us all differently."

The time foraging flew by. Wystan was an open, helpful and friendly company to have. I could see the corruption was beginning to show, it would not be long before he was lost once more. Even though I had not known him long, it would be sad to see him fade, but he saw it as the only way he could serve. We returned to the healer's tent, and I showed him how to make the concentrate, mixing up as many potions as we could until we ran out of vials.

"Well at least we have aid on hand when it is needed." He added as he left to go about other duties.

I sat in wait for any Templar's that require my aid, I was surprised how many were ordered to see me, as they refused to come of their own volition, some had to be frog marched by ranking officers. I may not have agreed with what they were doing, but I did not like seeing how they suffered. You could see the pain was greater than they were willing to admit, their hands shaking, or balled up to hold back the screams that threatening to escape. The strain was clear upon their reddened faces, the sweat dripping beyond their helms revealing but a glimpse of their struggles. Some found relief with the stronger potions, others suffering was only tamed for a time. I learnt that the corruption was a very painful process, they could feel the lyrium growing under their skin, they wanted to tear it off, but they were given tasks to busy their minds, and methods to focus. The pain did not stop once they became beasts, they just became less able to communicate it, but their wheezing and awkward gate spoke for them.

I had been on my feet all day. I searched out Wystan. "Would you watch the medical tent, I feel a need to rest."

"Not a problem." He took to the tent.

I returned to mine. Taking to the tattered cot, planning merely to rest my eyes, I must have drifted off.

As when I opened my eyes enough to see, I noticed a figure in a chair watching me. It took a while to focus upon Samson, I felt weary that he would feel the need to watch me. Was my cover blown?

"Samson? I won’t heal faster with you watching me." I attempted to sound glib rather than panicked. His stony silence did nothing to calm my frayed nerves. "Do you think I am going to run? Is that it? If that was what I wanted I would be gone already," I stated only realizing after I had said it that it did not sound reassuring.

"Something like that," he remarked looking out of the tent absentmindedly.

"Keep this up general and I will begin to think you care," I joked. 

He smiled to himself but I caught a glimpse of it before he narrowed his eyes upon me once more. “Why did you kill all of the villagers?” He pressed.

“I thought that was what you meant for me to do,” I exclaimed.

He groaned in frustration dragging his hand over his face. “No. Now we need more people.”

“I am sorry. I must have misunderstood the term mercy.” I had not intended to sound so vehement but somehow the word mercy came out in an angry hiss.

Samson raised an eyebrow at first, as if he was not quite sure he had heard me right. When I failed to say anything more, he pulled up and slowly walked over. His jaw clenched, his brow knitted. In a disturbingly calm with rage bubbling just beneath the surface he strained through his teeth. He leaned over me, taking his hands to the sides of the cot as if to wall me in. Looking me directly in the eye. I had nowhere to run, or room to back away, I was trapped. “I would advise caution when talking to your superiors.”

His eyes held an unnerving glare. I stammered. “Yes, Sir.”

On that note he left. I had not realized I was holding my breath until I found myself gasping for air. I forgot how intimidating he could be. Did he suspect me? What did Wystan tell him to make him so concerned that he would watch over me himself? I was both worried and confused. The only one I could try and speak to was Wystan, he would give me a straightforward answer, it would be inappropriate to press my general. I had already been pushing my luck sounding less than respectful.


	7. New faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces create new problems

I awoke from yet another nightmare, feeling restless. The theme was always the same. I was no longer in control as I became a dangerous beast. I pulled myself up with care as my leg still did not bear weight well. The craving was always with me, it was a constant battle, having a focus could distract me be it only momentary, it was a reprieve of sorts. So I knew I had to go to the healing tent as I could keep myself busy in there. As I hobbled toward the healing tent I saw Wystan doing all he could to hold down a fellow Red Templar with the help of lieutenant Cruise. He was screaming in agony. His skin was no longer healthy; it now bore the pink tainted color, the veins bulbous. Lyrium grows were starting to pierce the skin, so I could only imagine the agony the poor man felt. He writhed, crying out his agony. He was in the midst of becoming a beast and he was in terrible pain, his eyes said it all. I grabbed a vial and rushed over, not sure how much good this would do him. It felt strange yet so natural to shout an order to my superiors. "Hold him still. Open his mouth."

They did as I asked. Dragging my injured leg behind me, I walked over. "Drink this for the pain," I stated looking directly into his wild eyes. He swallowed the potion as I poured it into his mouth.

It took some time but he settled a little. He was still in a great deal of pain as I could hear each deep breath was strained. Cruise and Wystan were finally able to let him go.

"I think we might need something more powerful than this potion," I muttered to myself, wracking my brains trying to think of where to gather the ingredients.

"Bethan. May I have a word?" Cruise stated, leading me away from the poor suffering Templar.

He guided me out of the tent, pulling me to the side. I felt a little weary. "Your ability is wasted in there, Bethan. I saw the speed in which you crossed the battlefield, not many Templar’s can match the speed of a rogue. Why is the red lyrium not aiding your healing process?"

This was not what I had expected. I did not know how to respond, so the truth seemed the safest option. Cruise was smart and suspicious, so it wouldn't be wise to lie to him. "It runs in my family to be resistant to the ill effects of lyrium. I can only assume that is what is slowing the effects."

"That is very rare. I will confer with the General on this and we will see what we can do to get you back out there. These are all good troops, but I know a skilled fighter when I see one and I will not see you wasted behind the scenes." He seemed intent on getting me into battle. My break from the blood staining my hands would be short lived. I smiled, and simply stated "Thank you, lieutenant."

"However, your herbalism skills are appreciated, your potions have made things easier on the troops, and those further into the process."

I shouldn't have felt any sense of pride for aiding the red templar’s, but Cruise was so genuine in his praise I felt myself a little swept up in it before I recalled he was my enemy. The boundaries were beginning to blur. I was getting to know those here, and I was known by them. I had to stay focused. I needed to bring these bastards down, but my injury had set me back. I am sure Sera had been grilled for that mistake.I returned to the healer's tent, lost in thought. I had to start thinking of ways to take them down.

  
"It has been an eventful morning. Brennan is becoming a better soldier. One day this will be me," I could only assume he was speaking to me or this was some kind of assurance for himself. There was a degree of pride in his words but I saw a look of fear in his eyes when I looked across at him taking to his side. I wondered if he was afraid of the pain and the idea becoming something else, less human?

"Can I ask you something?" I pressed recalling my initial intent.

"Of course. What is it?"

"What did you say to the General?"

"Why?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"I am trying to do what I can to aid the cause but I fear it's not enough." I sighed heavily. This statement was half true, but he had no clue I was referring to my work for the inquisition.

  
"I merely told him that you seemed to be struggling. That is why he created this role, saves him having to deal with every injured solider himself."

"You told him I was struggling?" I took my hands to my face in exasperation.

"It was true, was it not?" He stated seeming confused by my response.

"Yes, I know you were trying to help, but I can't imagine he was happy about it."

"No, of course, he wasn't, but he gave you this role. That must show that he still sees your value. As does Cruise. You are one of us and we will remake this world into something better you'll see. And you will be one of the people molding it." He aided Brennan from the cot.

Brennan could barely walk. Seeing his struggle made me realize he would need more pain relief throughout the day so I moved as fast as I could, grabbing more vials. I tapped Wystan's shoulder. "Take these whenever you need them, they will help," I stated looking to the pained expression upon Brennan's face. He attempted to smile but that only hurt him further. Wystan took the vials and I stepped back. I let them return to their own tents. There was nothing more I could do for Brennan other than dull the pain of the process.

Several more men who were beginning the transformation were carried and simply fell into the tent as the day drew on. I used poultices on the lyrium growths that had torn the skin. I gave them potions to ease their suffering, but there wasn't much I could do. It was not easier watching the red Templar’s themselves suffer, I took no joy in their misery. I had assumed I would care less for the pain of my enemy but seeing them as human beings was beginning to make them feel less like my enemy. Getting to know them made them feel like my comrades, which made me feel guilty as I was lying to them.

It had been a busy morning; a moment's lull cast my mind adrift. Blake's voice broke me from my musings, I turned to him. "Bethan. You're requested to report to the General for your lyrium dose."

I nodded and slowly followed after Blake. "So are you our healer?" Blake forced idle small talk.

"For now that is my role yes, I always wanted to be a healer." I sighed.

"It will be useful here. Our last healers changed into more powerful beings. So you can imagine they can barely fit in tents never mind tending to the wounded."

“Can I ask why Samson is the one who gives out the lyrium?” I had begun to wonder why it was necessary.

  
“He retains a greater control than the rest of us, he can be trusted to not give into his addictions, he has mastered them. When a red templar changes can not always be predicted. He has made a study of its effects. I assume he must be intrigued by your resistance.”

  
I didn’t like the idea of being a test subject but it made sense that Samson would be the safest person to be in charge of the red lyrium. I couldn’t imagine the soliders would trust anyone else with their lives.

  
Blake seemed to become thoughtful before he turned and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell no one this, but I wanted to be a blacksmith."

  
"Why? That’s a good profession. There is no shame in that," I remarked.

  
I was keen to hear his response but he clammed up as we drew up to the general’s tent. It left me wondering if it was wrong to show an interest in the lives of my fellow templar’s as was it not better for me to maintain a distance from them? I reluctantly stepped into the tent.

  
I stepped forward. Samson placed three vials upon the table. I noticed he had upped my dose again. I was already craving it, how much longer before the corruption began to take hold? How much could my body take?

I took them one at a time, finding the warmth of it soothing. But once all three vials were gone I wanted more. I needed more, but I did not say this, Samson looked to me intently. My lack of reaction must have frustrated him as he stressed. "Nothing? Again. You are certainly made of stern stuff. Cruise vouched for you. He is a good leader I trust that his faith in you is not misplaced?"

"No, sir," I assured him.

He did not seem convinced, but I was not going to stand here and argue the point with him. So I left, returning to the healer's tent which was surprisingly quiet. It was good to not have to witness more suffering, but I felt at a loss with what to do with myself, and how to leave and make another report to the inquisition. They were watching me, whether it was through concern or suspicion was the worry.

I wandered out to find the red Templars in the midst of training exercise as I heard the clang of metal against metal, and the sounds of strain and I could almost imagine I was back at Skyhold. I imagined Cassandra destroying the training dummies like they had wronged her somehow. I could almost imagine cruises instruction was Cullen when I closed my eyes this brought a smile to my face. I had tried so desperately not to think of them, and this of all things wasn't what I thought would draw my mind to Cullen. I missed them, granted I hadn't gotten to know them all well. I missed real beds, decent food, ale and I missed Cullen most of all.

  
I opened my eyes and re-established the harsh reality. Lieutenant Cruise was bantering with Samson. I was unusual to see him out of context, as I don’t think I had seen him smile or joke since I had been here. I found myself noticing Samson looked different when he smiled, almost handsome. I shook my head to get rid of such foolish and bizarre thoughts as they had no place here. I sharp stab of guilt drew my mind to back to Cullen momentarily, a loud crash of shields crashing together jolted me back once more. I sighed heavily. I should have kept walking but I stopped and observed. When they returned to training, it was a sight to see, flawless, fluid and powerful swings of the sword. If Samson wasn't the enemy, I would be in awe of his skill. I knew the lyrium aided his ability, but the most of it was learned. I recognized the Templar training, the skill. Cruise spotted me when they paused for a moment, he beckoned me over.

"I hope to see you out here soon, Bethan," He said between deep breaths. He really was pushing for me to return to his command.

"I would like that, sir."

"Would you like to go over some basics?" Cruise offered.

I looked from him to Samson and felt the need to ask. "With you sir?" I quietly hoped Cruise meant him.

"Of course he means him. You wouldn't stand a chance against me. I wouldn't take it easy on you," Samson scoffed.

Some foolish pride seemed to kick in as I found myself saying. "Is that a fact?”

  
Both Samson and Cruise turned to me. Samson looked irritated, cruise looked shocked. I didn't know what it was about Samson but every time I intended to say nothing or be respectful I found I did the opposite. I couldn't hold my tongue.

Cruise looked as if he was about to step in but Samson cut in front of him. "No. if she wants to be a fool she can learn the hard way. Give her a sword and shield."

Cruise looked to him as if expecting he was joking, he was not. What had I gotten myself into? Samson could do a lot of damage and he may even kill me to prove a point.

I walked into the empty space they had been occupying. I planted my feet and tried to steady my breath. I barely had time to throw my shield up as Samson charged and sent me staggering to ground. "Get up!” He ordered.

I struggled to my feet but this time I saw his attack coming, the blade crashed against my shield hurting my hand. I held tighter to my shield despite my reflex demanded I let go. I had only one meager advantage and this was that I was even injured Iwas still faster. I used Samson's momentum against him during his next lunge. I dodged last minute leaving him staggering forward. He recovered his footing quickly. My little stunt only inflamed his rage. The lyrium upon his armor seemed to glow as he quietly seethed. I could see the rage burning in his eyes. His return charge caught me off guard as it was swift and powerful, slamming my shield into me at speed. I didn't manage to hold my ground as my feet began slipping back. I did the only thing available to me as my arms were straining to hold Samson back. I pulled to the side swiftly but he anticipated my move and spun his shield around, catching my jaw, disorientating me. I tasted blood. He knocked me off my feet, leaving me scrambling away from the blade swing that followed. I threw up my shield to block the next one. He leaned against the shield, pinning me to ground. My arms buckled under the stress. It was agonizing but I managed to edge out exhausted and gasping for breath. I thought in that moment I was dead, wide open and struggling to pull up. I didn't register that it was Samson's hand stretched out toward me. I was reluctant to take it but I was defeated. I took it begrudgingly. He pulled me up.

"You did well," he confessed. "You might want to go to the river. The waters ice cold will help with the swelling."

I wiped away the blood from my split lip, which burned upon the slightest touch, and tried to recover myself. My pride, body, and arms were bruised. Lieutenant Cruise stepped up as Samson left. Samson had even broken a sweat. "See this is why I need you battle ready. You held your own against our general."

"He defeated me without even breaking a sweat," I exclaimed.

"The lyrium has not taken effect with you yet. You will get stronger." He turned to the red Templar’s who had been observing. "Tell me," He called to them. "What did Bethan do right?"

"She used her strengths to hold her opponent off balance."

"What did she do wrong?"

"She let him get too close."

"See, every training exercise teaches us something," Cruise turned back to me. "You should take the Generals advice, before the lyrium works that will help."

"Thank you, lieutenant," I stated automatically. I had been made an example of.

I hobbled away much worse for wear, but looking forward to the soothing chill of the water. I knew I wouldn't feel it as keenly as most. I had to ask a recruit where it was before I made my way over. I looked around me and began to loosen the straps holding my armor in place and as I did my hand strained. I walked slowly into the water feeling the pain flare as the cool water lapped over the soon to be bruised skin. After a time the pain faded. The sweat blood and grime flowed down the river, but I felt my hands would never be clean. I pulled under the water, gulping in a mouthful, wincing as the inside of my mouth burned were Samson's shield had glanced my jaw. I was lucky it hadn't been full force or my jaw would be broken. My Injuries would remain visible to others as a means to put me in my place. I would need to learn to hold my tongue lest he feel the need to make an example of me, again.

I surfaced, took a deep breath, and held a moment in the water. The sound of the water flowing over the rocks was a comforting sound, not alike all I had heard since I had been here. I knew I wouldn't be allowed long, so I made the most of this peaceful moment. The calm soon faded bringing forth the lingering craving. It felt like a thirst that this entire river couldn't quench.

With the peace lost, and the need growing I pulled out of the river, ringing my hair as best as I could and donning my clothes still damp. Carrying my armor back loose. If was not for the poor beasts I could imagine this was like any other camp. Taking to the healing tent. I wanted to tend to what were thankfully superficial wounds given my sparring partner, he could have done much worse. I was attempting to make a poultice but the knock to my hand made it unsteady, so I found myself dropping nearly everything I tried to pick up. I wanted to go and ask for help but I felt my pride was a little too sore to face anyone. My hair was beginning to dry, as were my clothes in the mild warmth the sun was still providing in these winter months.

"You understand you made that display necessary." I heard Samson declare as he walked in, startling me. I had not expected to see anyone to come in the medical tent.

"Yes, sir."

"What in Maker’s name is this mess?" He pointed to the ingredients strewn across the ground.

"It is nothing, sir. I will clear it up."

"You rarely listen, do you? Take a seat," he stated pointing to the cot.

I pulled up slowly. He said nothing, but I heard the clamor of vials and instruments behind me. I wanted to turn but I held my gaze forward, for fear of being reprimanded. Samson rounded the sick bed, taking up in front of me. I daren't look him in the eye for fear of another stupid word leaving my lips. I held my gaze of the lyrium rocks protruding from his armor. The glow caught my eye, calling forth my craving. I felt a hand take under my chin, nudging me to look up. His armored gloves were gone, and it felt strange to look him in the eye. He brushed my wet hair behind my ear. His gaze and touch were beginning to make me uncomfortable. I didn’t want him touching me, but the gentle manner in which he did began to stir something in me.

The smell of the elfroot filled the air as he took the fingers of his free hand across my split lip. I flinched on reflex. The sudden burning of the skin shocked me. "Hold still, would you?" He chided, pulling closer.

  
He continued with a more gentle touch until the split was covered. I was trying focus on the smell of the elfroot, as I was beginning to feel a little confused by my feelings. Why did Samson being so close make me nervous? It didn’t feel like fear. But what else could it be?

  
"Give me your hand," he ordered. I would have made a joke but I felt uneasy. A strange tension had my cheeks burning.

  
He took my hand and added, "This will hurt."

  
I hissed through my teeth as put pressure on both sides of my hand. A sharp stabbing pain cut through my palm. The pain began to subside. "You will find you will be able to hold it steady within an hour."

And with that, he left. I held my hand protectively as I stretched my aching fingers. I took a deep breath as the uneasy feeling left with him. I had not endeared myself to him, nor had I flown under the radar. It seemed like every move I made was wrong to Samson, and only made things more difficult for myself. I cursed my own stupidity. I continued to flex my hand, and as promised the pain eased, and I found it steady. I wonder where he learned that trick that fixed my hand?

I spent the rest of the day aiding the few templar’s who came to me with complaints of pain. They were starting to come to me voluntarily, well, some of them at least, that was an encouraging sign. I could hope this meant that the soldiers were beginning to trust me. Samson was another story.

Upon my return to my tent it I could assume they had been out recruiting as Wystan was outside with a rather nervous looking woman at his side who I did not recognize. "Bethan, this is a new recruit. Her name is Lucy. You will be showing her the ropes so to speak. Cruise wants you both training with us tomorrow."

Things seemed to move fast here, more new recruits. And I recalled Samson saying they would need more villagers. I hated the idea of more innocents suffering. I felt guilty for hoping the horrific task of harvesting lyrium would be passed to another. I looked to her she was alike to myself she did not have the look of the stereotypical templar. But I knew from experience that appearances were indeed deceiving. She was a little shorter than myself with her long blonde hair dragged back in a tight ponytail. Her templar armor was well worn. "Welcome to the red templar’s," I stated with as much pride as I could muster. I wanted to tell her to run for her life, but I held my tongue.

  
“I am glad to serve,” She said timidly.

  
I guided her into the tent wondering how long someone like this would last here. There was now a second cot on the other side of the tent. "Rest if you can tomorrow will be a busy day." Was the only thing I could think to say.

She didn't say much. I felt for her and would have been more comforting if I wasn't so exhausted. I took to my cot, leaving the poor girl in the silence in a new place. Whether she was here through choice was something that concerned me as I drifted in and out of consciousness

* * *

  
My sleep was interrupted by a drawn out scream. I jolted up, barely recalling I now had a new companion. She was screaming in agony, writhing upon her cot like she was possessed by a demon. I had been unfortunate enough to have heard that scream enough in my short time here to know it was not simply fear, it was the corruption taking hold. It was faster with certain people, something in their genes made them more susceptible to the effects. I rushed over to her bleary eyed, and barely able to focus. "Where is the pain?" I pressed.

"Everywhere," she wheezed through her sobs.

I pulled her belt free of her waist. "Open your mouth," I ordered.

Her wild eyes questioned me, but I remained insistent. She opened her mouth. I pushed in the leather between her teeth. "Bite down on this so the pain does not overwhelm. I will be back."

I found my way to healers tent in dark swiftly grabbing vials from the table I returned at speed Lucy's condition had not improved she was straining to breathe, tears coursing down her temples.

"Drink this. It will help with the pain."

She did not hesitate as I removed the belt, and she drank both vials hastily. She was tremoring. I stayed at her side. I felt for her as she looked to me with wide eyes like a frightened child, I could do nothing to allay her fears as I knew there was to be more pain. I felt helpless like I could offer her nothing. So I took her hand gently in mine so she would know she was not alone, it was the only comfort I felt able to give. I must have fallen asleep, holding to her hand.

* * *

  
I awoke as she attempted to move. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Thank you for that," She strained. She still looked shaky, but better than last night.

"So what do I do now?"

"Report for your daily lyruim dose."

She looked to me, her eyes pleading.

"I don't know where to go?"

"I will show you," I assured her.

I led her toward the general's tent. "Will you come in with me?" She squeaked.

I narrowed my eyes wondering for a moment how she would survive here since she was more awkward than myself. I nodded and followed in behind her. Samson raised an eyebrow looking to me. "Bethan," he nodded.

  
"I will be just outside," I assured Lucy.

  
The terror in Lucy's eyes was the only thing to root me to the spot. "If it is not a problem I would like to remain, sir."

  
Samson made no objection. Placing the lyrium vial upon the table, Lucy hesitated before she took it in hand. She was even slower to drink it and Samson’s glare did nothing to speed her along. Her reaction was violent and sudden as you could see the lyrium deepened the color of her veins, making them all visible. She cried out. Her flailing hand grabbed out for mine. Even knowing this would be looked upon poorly, I took her hand. Her grip almost vice-like so I was thankful that was my uninjured hand.

She pulled back up slowly, finding her breath. "Breathe deep and slow," I instructed.

I knew this was obvious instruction, but given her pain and terror, I could see she was holding her breath, which only made things worse. She looked to me. Her eyes were blood red as the capillaries had in her eyes had ruptured from the stress. This was a disturbing example of how lyrium affected everyone differently, for her the effect was swift. She was dismissed, asked to return to our tent to get ready for training. I was about to follow after her. "Bethan," Samson called.

"You remembered my name." I tried to be humorous as I turn back to face him.

"I can forget it just as easily," he warned. "Look I appreciate you aiding her last night and today. I know how painful it can be. But you can't protect her she needs to toughen up to last here. If you cannot handle this, I can always entrust her care to another."

"I will keep that in mind sir."

"See that you do."

"Sir, may I ask how you choose your recruits?"

"Why what prompts you to question me?"

"I do not intend to offend, Sir. It was mere curiosity," I remarked like I had made another miss-step. Samson seemed to have a knack for making me nervous.

"She is no less foolish than you, she volunteered. We get so these days thanks to the bloody inquisition. We will make her stronger here, she will not be left to rot." He snarled as he mentioned the inquisition. But his snarl faded and his eyes softened as he spoke of not leaving her to rot. It made me wonder if he genuinely cared? Were these traits of an enemy?

  
I remained unmoved my eyes held upon Samson. His eyes narrowed as he met mine once more. He placed three lyrium vials before me. I took them without hesitation, I had been craving the taste all day, the warmth of it. I always left wanting more, needing more. That unquenchable thirst always was always there it never abated it merely held in the backdrop, like a ghost haunting my steps. I felt restless, it was difficult to hold still. Was this the craving my templar brothers had suffered when they took the lyium the chanrty had given us? If so I felt a greater empathy toward their struggle and to Samson who had suffered this according to Cullen's notes. I looked to him curiously. It seemed as though I may have been looking too long as he drew his eyes from mine and stated. "Your lip’s healing nicely. The lyrium must finally be taking effect."

  
He smiled.For Samson, this was encouraging, to me this was frightening. If the lyrium was beginning to affect me, how long before it changed me? I pondered these troubling thoughts as I wandered back to my tent, which I now realized was no escape. Lucy would be there, and she would have questions of her own. I was unsure if I would be able to answer any of her questions honestly.

  
So I had gone from harvesting to healing to babysitting a new recruit. I needed to report to the Inquisition, but now I had a new set of eyes to evade. I was beginning to feel useless like I wasn't cut out for undercover work. The lies and deception did not come so easily to me, and the guilt and shame of all I had let happen so far was now weighing heavily upon me. But I had to focus and remember why I was here.


	8. Home is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is the duplicity too much for Bethan?

As I reached mine and Lucy's tent I saw Wystan standing outside. Lucy was beside him, her cheeks were ruddy as were his. I raised an eyebrow as it felt like there was an awkward tension. If I didn't know any better I would assume they had been flirting with one another. This idea made me smile, that would be so very human and this comforted me to think they might not be too far gone.

I nodded to them and I began to notice Lucy seemed more confident or just more talkative at the very least. "Wystan was telling me you are our healer and good fighter..Something to see during training."

  
Lucy smiled.

  
The compliment made me feel a little embarrassed, so I felt the need to say something. "I don't know about that. What skill do you bring to our cause?" I mused.

"I am an archer. I was a huntress by trade before I became a Templar. I will be providing cover and dinner so I have been informed." She looked shyly to Wystan.

Wystan piped up. "We should make our way to training. You do not want to be late. Trust me."

"What happens when you’re late?"

"You will see," He added with a shudder as if he had made that mistake once.

We began to walk to the middle of camp, there was still a stillness to the camp so I could assume training had yet to begin, but the others were I assumed on the field already due to the silence. When we pulled into the vast clearing at the edge of camp I was taken back by the sheer numbers. I had spent so much time off to the sidelines I had not realized just how many red Templars there were, hundreds by my estimation and that wasn't counting the beasts in attendance. I wondered how many camps there were just like this one?

We joined the soldiers lined up awaiting orders. Lieutenant Cruise walked up and down the line, looking to us with what I assumed to be pride. Another soldier came bounding over. "Sorry I am late sir," he gasped.

"Watch carefully," Wystan whispered beside me.

I did intently as lieutenant cruise turned to him. "You're late soldier," He chided.

"It won't happen again, sir."

"You’re right, it won't. Brennan care to teach our recruit the importance of rules. You lagged behind and your fellow recruits may suffer the consequences. So you will do the same."

Brennan stepped forward, no longer a man but a full beast. The transformation was complete. His breath was labored and he walked awkwardly, but his size and appearance held to his intimidating visage. He loomed over the poor recruit who looked as if he was trying his best to hide his fear. I was on tender hooks wondering what would happen next as from what I had seen of Lieutenant Cruise he was an intelligent man and a good teacher.

Cruise passed him a shield and sword. "Defend yourself." Was the only thing he advised the tardy recruit.

Brennan's skin seemed to pulse as he raged. Lyrium grew out of his hands, which sparked that constant thirst to fore of my thoughts. It took all my focus to not tear across and snatch the red from his hands and consume it in a crazed fashion. We watched the calm before the first attack. I wondered how they could run out of lyrium when the horrors could manufacture it themselves. Brennan threw the red lyrium shards like weapons toward the recruit who simply threw up his shield in defense, as the lyrium ricocheted it seemed to fracture it was so brittle, but this created a red mist about the recruit. The recruit began to back away, holding the shield up to repel any surprise attack. He was disorientated and confused as to the whereabouts of Brennan. The recruit was new to the effects and his reaction made that obvious as the lyrium was playing havoc with his senses. I could clearly see, Brennan pull in and drop low grabbing the recruit’s foot, pulling him off his feet, sending him crashing to ground. The recruit was reeling with the impact and shock of the fall, and the burn of the lyrium, he had not expected the horror to do much beyond charge.  I must admit I too had not thought they would have enough mind left to be tactical if that's what that was. It was worrying to know the power they held could be both controlled and so uncontained at the same time, it only made them dangerous.

Lieutenant Cruise called out, "Stop Brennan.

Brennan stopped and returned to his place in the formation. “I believe our recruit has learned more than one lesson," Cruise observed.

The recruit was helped up to his feet by the Lieutenant. "Take your place in line," Cruise told him as the recruit recovered himself. "Let that stand as a message to all of you. Orders and respect are key to every battle. If one solider fails to do his job it will cost your fellow soldiers dearly. No one should have to pay the ultimate price for another's mistake. In an army, you do not risk alone. Remember that."

Lieutenant Cruise was so levelheaded it was hard to understand what had drawn him here. I had been led to believe the red Templar’s were the bad guys and it was difficult to imagine Cruise fitting such a title. He was motivational, tough but fair. Everything he did was for a reason. He would indeed be a formidable man upon the battlefield. "Archers take to target practice. Warriors pair up and show me what you have got. Spar. And remember we are red Templar’s we are tough and we are going to remake this sick world into something worth living upon."

Everyone cheered around me. I forced myself to join upon the next round of cheering. I looked around me, they all seemed convinced of purpose and ready to follow Cruise and Samson to whatever end. I envied their faith. I was so unsure and I was beginning to question everything, good and bad seemed to blur. I was awash with confusion. I felt a tap upon my shoulder; I turned to see Wystan looking to me expectantly. Lucy had disappeared into the crowd. "Are you ready? Sparring partner?" Wystan posed as my eyes drifted from him.

I quickly returned my gaze. "I am."

"Good. Let us go to the armory."

I turned with him then followed his lead, finding a tent at the end of the clearing. Waiting in line to get weapons, hearing my fellow Templars talking amongst themselves was strange. They were like regular soldiers, laughing and conversing like this was a regular army and this was an everyday drill. A chill crept up my spine as I realized: should I survive my time here I would have to again take my blade to a fellow Templar and worse still, I was beginning to know faces and see they weren't the monsters or villains. It would be a heavy heart with which I struck them down.

"Bethan? We are next," Wystan called me back to the present moment.

Finding a bulk of shields before me, I pulled one free. Walking toward the blades, I saw the craftsmanship was of a high quality, Maddox was truly a skilled man. I felt guilty for not attempting to see him, but him being tranquil now made it difficult to find the will to go. As the skill was his, as was the hand, but the mind and personality that had made him were gone. He would not feel my absence. I wondered if I should mourn him but it would feel bizarre knowing he was still here in some form.

Sighs of exasperation came from behind me. Knowing I must be holding them up, I picked up the blade. I found that both the shield and sword felt lighter to me than they had when I first picked them up. Maybe it was my years of practice or maybe it was the red lyrium. Turning and nodding to those behind me in an unspoken apology, they both smiled. They looked fairly untouched by the lyrium; it was only the red appearing in their eyes that was a telltale sign. The blue and brown of their eyes were dulling. I wondered if that was happening to me, I had not dared to look at my own reflection although I had had chances to do so. Was I afraid to? I followed Wystan out.

  
I continued to follow Wystan's lead until he stopped and stated, “This is ample space."

I readied myself, taking a fighting stance shield held protectively before me. Head angled to give less of a target. Wystan held still and silent. I wondered what he was waiting for. Then as if in answer Cruise called out. "Warriors let me see your shield bash. I want you to decide who is first and second. Then first I want you to take your shield to your second. Second's I do not want to see you lose ground, hold firm."

"I will take Second Wystan offered. Ladies first and all that."

He smiled. I smiled in return and remarked, "You may be sorry you said that."

My leg was still a little stiff but healing, and faster than normal for me. That caused me to take a deep breath, the lyrium was beginning to work its way into my system and that was a frightening realization. The gaining of the power without the side effects was familiar but the craving had only come with red lyrium. Cruise called out. "On my command..." I readied myself. "Attack," He ordered.

As I motioned forward I felt a surge of energy course through me, adding weight, strength and speed to my swing and forward step. I knocked Wystan back. His eyes widened as he staggered. I was shocked by my newfound strength as it had been like a controlled rush. It made me feel so thirsty. It worried me to feel that power and how addictive it had felt. I had liked the feeling of being so in control of such raw energy within me, it was like I had mastered it rather than being overwhelmed. Wystan pulled back and returned to a fighting stance, waiting for Cruise's order. "Second attack."

Wystan's shield bash hit me with equal power, forcing me to stagger back. As this continued we found ourselves find greater control and footing, the rush as I charged had me craving battle. The rush was a high I had never felt before, I felt almost invincible like I could take on anything or anyone. If training gave you but a taste of the power, I could only imagine what it would be like to be on the battlefield. Power rushing through your blood, your enemies not standing a chance against you. I had to take a moment to recover myself. I wasn't here for power, but thoughts had been so consuming. When in battle would I be lost, just a killing machine?

Basic drills and sparring ran throughout the day. Wystan asked me questions about my time with the Templar’s. I had to be careful with my responses given that not all Templar’s would understand my stance upon mages. I returned the question only to hear him once again shower Samson with eternal praise for his life.

I noticed that when Lucy came over to us during short breaks Wystan’s dulling eyes seemed to become a light and Lucy’s cheeks flushed red every time he complimented her. Wystan and I were speaking of Lieutenant Cruise’s effortless leading ability, how he was a good mentor. I began to feel that Lucy might be looking to me to be her mentor, she confirmed my fears by saying it plainly. “That makes you my mentor then Bethan.”

  
I wasn't sure how I felt about taking on that role, that would be like having a shadow and that was the last thing I needed. I cringed internally when Wystan stated. "From what I have seen of Bethan you are fortunate. She is a good fighter and she cares about her fellow Templar’s. No better traits in a mentor."

I decided to shift the spotlight back to him. "I was lucky to have you as my mentor, was I not? I would not have gotten this far without your aid and patience Wystan."

His cheeks flushed. "Is that so?" Lucy stated as she looked at him with a smile.

We trained until the light began to fail us. It was only when I stopped that I felt the pain in my leg renewed and the thirst. I took my shield and sword back to the armory tent trying to not let the need overwhelm me. Training used to have me sweating profusely in my heavy Templar armor, but today it was barely a glaze of sweat. Only the dull ache in my injured leg reminded me that I had been doing more than manning the healing tent. I wondered who was manning it in my absence with all previous healers now beasts?

I was stretching my injured leg with control and care. When Wystan and Lucy approached, Lucy realized she still had her bow and arrows. "I should return these," she added hastily before rushing back off among the throng of fellow Templar’s making their way back toward camp.

I turned to Wystan. I knew this wasn't exactly appropriate talk but I found my curiosity get the better of me. "Do you like Lucy?"

"What gave you that idea?" He looked to me with a raised eyebrow.

I smiled to myself before adding, "Maybe I am wrong, but that looked an awful lot like flirting to me."

"Please don't mention that to Lucy it’s embarrassing. She is just so beautiful and sweet. I don’t stand a chance,” He sighed.

"I wouldn't tell her. But I can see she likes you.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

“I have eyes don’t I. The looks that pass between you are scandalous,” I joked. Laughing to myself.

"Oh maker is it obvious,” Wystan gasped, “It is frowned upon for recruits to fraternize; it's apparently a distraction that does not serve the cause."

"You sound as though you have been given a speech upon it," I smirked at thought of Samson or Cruise giving such a speech. I wasn't sure why that amused me so.

"We all did. I know we need to remain focused upon our goal. But I am still human and from time to time my thoughts stray a little. And a lot when I am around her, guess that’s what they mean to avoid." He sighed heavily.

"You need not worry about me your secret is safe," I dropped to a whisper as I saw Lucy running back over. She looked enthused.

"I am going out with the hunters tomorrow. You will eat well tomorrow," she assured us as if she had known us for some time.

She seemed to be coming out of her shell quickly. I supposed that here you had no choice, the shy and retiring type wouldn't manage as well. The red lyrium also didn't hurt one's confidence as when you feel powerful there is a sense of being self-assured, whether it was misguided or not was another question.

"So your skills will be put to good use," I remarked not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm.

"Indeed. It's a shame you can't both come and watch. The hunt is amazing. It brings such a sense of peace."

I raised an eyebrow wondering how chasing down an innocent animal could be enjoyable or peaceful, but each to their own I thought. I had lost all semblance of peace, Cullen's lucky coin destroyed. I wished I had it to hold in my hand, something to make me feel centered. I was not alone here and was being to form attachments. I knew this was not a good idea, I should have remained distant. I sighed heavily. Lucy pressed "So what now?"

Lucy pressed "So what now?"

We both turned to Wystan. I assumed I would be returning to the healing tent. I had missed the routine of it but not the pain I witnessed. I did not feel the need to rush back, until Wystan looked to me and stated, "Bethan, you should go and check upon the healing tent as they left it to Blake in your stead. He does not seem so knowledgeable upon soothing pain. He is only a warrior. He only knows how to cause it."

I smiled to myself knowing that he was not just a warrior as he wanted to be a blacksmith but I assumed that he feared judgment from his fellow Templar’s. I said my goodbyes, leaving with a sly smile to Wystan. I couldn't resist turning and adding, "I will leave you two alone then."

I was amused. Wystan was less so as he shot me a warning glance. Lucy just waved to me none the wiser. I turned rather amused. I walked slowly back to the healing tent, watching my fellow Templar’s file back and forth. We gave nods of acknowledgment as we passed one another. Was I now one of them? It was beginning to feel like it.

I walked into the healing tent toward the man sitting with his back me. He must have heard my approach, I was shocked when he turned and it wasn't Blake. It was Samson. They had such similar build and thinning dark hair. "Sir?"  
"About bloody time I have work to do," he chided.

"I apologize, sir. I had no idea.”

"Not enough time to teach new healers of late," he remarked, his icy glare thawed.

"I will not keep you then, sir."

"Report to Cruise for your lyrium," he added before rushing out.

For a moment I couldn't for the life of me recall where I was, I felt panicked. It faded into a heavy sense of disappointment when I did. I longed to be in Skyhold working alongside the inquisition and making excuses to see Cullen. I picked myself up from the ground. I returned to my tent. Should anyone need to find me, they knew where I would be. I didn't see Lucy on my travels. I enjoyed the peace and dropped upon my cot.

I jolted awake from another nightmare. This one was different, the lyrium had been pushing through my skin until I was covered in it. The red rocks covered in my blood, the pain was blinding. It had felt so real, So real that I had to check my skin for signs, nothing. I looked to the other cot in the dull light of dawn, it was empty. I wondered if it meant that they had decided to spend the night together. If so, I only hoped they would be careful.

* * *

 

The next few days passed in a blur of lyrium doses, training and soothing the pain of those in need of it. I was beginning to like Cruise, Lucy, and Wystan. They were good people, who had all been pushed over the edge and had taken the only hand they were ever offered. I already knew Wystan’s story he had been very open from the start. Lucy, however, dropped hints of her struggles in conversations. Such as “Yes I know it all too well.” But then she would refuse to elaborate, neither I or Wystan would push. But I was curious, as she had seemed so fragile in the beginning that I feared for her. What had made her that way?

Finally one day she found me out foraging for ingredients trying to keep my mind busy, off the addiction. “Do you know who the General reminds me of?” she mused.

“Who?” I posed assuming she wasn’t referring to a saintly man.

“My father, he too was a harsh man.”

For me, that did explain why she had been so terrified of getting her first dose of lyrium and why at first she was so withdrawn.I stopped and turned to give her my full attention. I didn’t voice the errant thought that came to mind. ‘I don’t think the general is that bad’, I just looked at her intently.

“He was violent, and I was at his mercy...He blamed me for my mother’s death. she died giving birth to me. So the Templar’s were my chance to become strong and fight back, but I never quite fit in, archery and hunting were the only things I took to. I was useless at bringing in mages. Eventually, they decided that being a templar was not for me after a blood mage escaped us. They cast me out, and after that, I couldn't quite find my place, nowhere and no one would have me. I felt sick and tierd all the time without the lyrium, I felt weak and useless. Cruise found me in a gutter in my old Templar uniform and offered me a new chance so I took it. I will not be weak again. I mean look at the red Templar’s not a weak one among them, and now I too am strong,” she strained, her voice had cracked in places tearing at my heart.

I followed my impulse and pulled her into a gentle embrace so should she wish to push me away she could do so with ease. She did not push me away, she cried silently upon my shoulder. And in the silence of the forest, a painful secret was revealed. People often felt able to tell me their deepest darkest pains and secrets, I rarely felt worthy of the trust they placed in me but I was honored by it. Their pain, Lucy’s pain ran deep. The first people who should have been Lucy’s protectors were taken, one in death, another in mind. I hoped her father did not still live as I felt I would kill him for her, I felt such anger on her behalf. I did not press her to say anymore, I was helpless to ease her pain, I could only hear it and offer what little I could. “I am truly sorry to know you have suffered in such a way. I understand this is in confidence, and should you ever wish to talk you know I care to hear it.”

She nodded. And that was the end of it. The rest of the day continued as if nothing had been said. But we were just that little bit closer. I understood her a little better, and it seemed like she felt safer with me as she was more open and honest with me. I even stood at her side in any of her dealings with Samson when she asked me to go with her, he would have questioned it but seemed very distracted. I wondered what he was busy doing?

I knew she was strong but a part of me wanted to protect Lucy but how I could protect her from harm when my intent was to harm the red Templar’s? The burden of this duplicity became like a weight upon my shoulders, and it got heavier each time I shared a moment of friendship with Wystan and Lucy or felt trust and respect for Cruise and Samson. I was betraying them, and it was killing me.

It had been a week, and we had moved further across the emerald graves to a new campsite. I noticed that we had run out of elfroot and healing potions. So I did not hesitate to go to Samson and ask permission to leave. He seemed to be less suspicious of me. I wasn't sure whether it was because of all I did for them or because he was too busy himself to be concerned with such minor details. I was allowed to go alone. I was glad of the silence that reigned as I wandered through the thick forest areas. The trees and plants were so plentiful it was difficult to navigate. When I found my way to a small clearing after a long walk from camp, I found a crow staring at me almost accusingly, like a reflection of my guilt for not getting out reports back to the inquisition as regularly as I assumed they hoped. The bird took to my side, and I carefully removed the scroll from its leg. Once again I was forced to use blood to write the report as I had nothing else to hand. I wrote of our movements, recruitment, and abilities of the horrors, to keep them apprised. I attached the scroll back to the leg of the crow. I realized after the crow left my hands that I had neglected to mention my health. Maybe it was through intent; maybe I didn't want them pulling me out. Was I starting to feel at home among the red Templar’s?


	9. Friends and superior officers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends and Samson cause Bethan problems

When I returned to the healing tent I found Lucy standing in the middle of it. She seemed to be shifting nervously. "Lucy?"

"Bethan, I need a favor?" She mumbled, her eyes barely holding mine.

"What is it?" I pressed, feeling suspicious of her anxious manner.

"Well, Wystan and I are, you know...and we were hoping you could be a look out for us...As we need privacy and Wystan's nervous about getting caught after the lecture they all received from the General. We will be quiet, just need privacy and Wystan trusts you, as do I. So please will you? While I am still human I would like to enjoy it."  
I felt she was playing upon my conscience to persuade me. I felt backed into a corner by my own good nature. "Oh come on that is hardly fair," I exclaimed feeling annoyed by the guilt and burden she was now placing upon me.

"I know, but I can't imagine I will get another chance. I will be different soon. I am not like you and Wystan. The lyrium is already corrupting me," she sighed, her shoulders slumped.

She tried to give me doe eyes which failed miserably due to the bloodshot strain in her eyes from the lyrium which lessened the effect. I don't know how she did it but somehow she did manage to get me to begrudgingly agree. "Okay, fine," I relented.

The idea of being their look out made me feel a mixture of happiness for them as they seemed like good people to me, and awkwardness. I knew there was no one else they could go to who wouldn't just report them for it, so if I liked it or not it was now my role to protect their relationship for however long it lasted. Was it wrong to hope it wouldn't be too long? I had questions, as I had been a lookout for enemies but this was different.

"And what do I do if someone passes the tent?" I posed.

"Call them over very loudly so we can hear you."

"You don't think that will sound suspicious?" I mused.

"Maybe, if you think of something better then use it." She suggested, looking hopeful.

"You two had best not get me in trouble," I grumbled.

"Oh, thank you," She exclaimed, hugging me with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Lucy I need to breathe,” I strained with the pressure upon my chest.

“Oops,” she exclaimed with a mildly embarrassed smile.

“It’s okay. I will help. You don’t have to hug me into submission,” I teased.

A wide grin crossed her face. “I still can’t believe it. I found a good man and a good friend, here of all places,” she shook her head as if in disbelief.

"The friend is you," she added as she gave me a parting smile, grabbing her bow and arrow.

“I am happy for you both,” I remarked as she was leaving.

I felt flattered but unsure as to what to do with that information as I realized I wanted to be her friend…but how could I be when I was deceiving her. I sighed heavily feeling the weight press upon my shoulders.

I knew Lucy grabbing her gear without waiting for me meant that she was going out with the hunters like she had done many times. It drew my mind back to the past few days when I had discovered how Lucy truly was a talented archer as I had seen her practicing in the early morning. I think she only invited me to show off since she seemed to love the shock and awe she could draw from me with her pinpoint accuracy. The only others I had seen awake in the weak light of dawn were the beasts, behemoths, and Samson. Samson had begun to acknowledge my existence beyond serving lyrium doses and training. I couldn’t be sure as it seemed so unlikely to me but I could swear he had at the very least a ghost of a smile when he addressed me I was unsure as to whether to smile back. Was it okay to smile at your red Templar general?

So the next time I saw him I smiled before I greeted him formally, “General.”

“Bethan,” he returned, he gave a wry smile in return.

I felt my cheeks warm at the sight of his smile. What was wrong with me? I tried to replace the image of Samson with one of Cullen’s lovable grins but it was becoming more difficult to dismiss the strange feelings that Samson stirred within me.

I must have been stupid enough to be emboldened by this as the next time he was about to pass me he looked very concentrated and concerned. I was foolish enough to utter, “General, are you okay?”

He was slow to react and even slower to respond. “What?”

I realized that maybe I was sounding too familiar or was he so lost thought that he had not heard me, either way, my nerve was a little shaken, so I stammered, “Sorry Sir, you just looked rather concerned.”

He raised an eyebrow to my skittish remark, and I couldn’t quite believe what happened next. I am still convinced it was a hallucination sparked by the lyrium. He laughed and then he continued to his tent. I was a left a little confused, but despite the hoarseness, of his laugh was a welcome sound.

Today I was to work in the healing tent as pain relief was needed for the new recruits. I forgot about everything else upon my mind as soon as I arrived. I began doing all I could for those amidst the process of becoming beasts and sadly today it seemed there was more than usual going through the process quickly. Some of those who came to me I recognized what was left of their faces. Realizing that they would soon be gone left me with a lingering sadness. I had seen a few changes in time among the red Templar's, but it was not easy to watch them fade away. The next time I saw them they could only grunt in acknowledgment. Any sign life in their eyes gone, just a perfect soldier in their place. No will, they just did as they were ordered to do. How was Samson okay with this given that he cared for the Templar’s? Maybe it was easier as he didn't have to watch the process any longer as he had passed that burden to me, the right of a commanding officer. I was fed up and exhausted by the time darkness grew thick and heavy forcing fires and torches lit. I was making my way back to mine and Lucy's tent when I was approached by a very awkward Wystan, Lucy smiling at his side.

"I am sorry about this, Bethan. But you know anyone else would have run straight to the general," he reasoned with evasive eye contact.

"Just hurry up you two," I chided.

They snuck into our tent, looking very nervous. I felt like an awkward uninvited guest but I kept watch as promised. My mind did wander a little, I began to daydream how it would be to finally be with Cullen, the idea had my heart a flutter. But I was shocked free of my contented daydream when the man in it was no longer Cullen. I felt horrified by my mind, Why was I daydreaming about the general?

I pulled myself back to the present moment, not daring to daydream again lest Samson intrude upon it. Thankfully they did not take much longer. I heard Lucy whisper. "You can go to sleep now. Thank you, Bethan."

I took inside the tent, thankful to see them both fully dressed, both smiling at each other in a goofy fashion I couldn't have imagined Wystan doing until now. It was nice to see they were happy. Wystan smiled to her, kissing her and whispering something that made her smile wider before he left, merely nodding to me.  
"You seem happy," I remarked gladly. So much here had a little glimmer of humanity and joy that it was nice to see that a little romance was able to find a way, even here.

"I am. I know it's fast but it just feels right. Shame we didn't meet before all of this," she sighed heavily.

"It is. But you can make the most of your time now," I suggested not wanting her to dwell upon what if's, I knew the pain of them.

She spent the rest of the night before she drifted to sleep, recounting Wystan's virtues. She told me amidst girlish giggles, the corruption beginning to distort her laugh, this worried me. "He is the best I have had. Is that too much information?"

I smiled to myself and remarked. "It is always the quiet ones."

I was a little jealous as Cullen was beyond my reach and I couldn’t be sure for how long. Being here had made my mind had decided to ruin the image I had been holding to, so now when I thought of Cullen somehow Samson would come to mind, it frustrated me.

"I wonder..." she proclaimed and fell silent.

"What is it?" I pressed with only a mild curiosity.

"I did wonder if you and Wystan were…I wonder why he never went after you?”

I could only assume she was feeling a little insecure. I had to take my hand to my mouth to hold back a laugh. It wasn't that Wystan wasn't an attractive man but I saw him like an older brother, so the thought both amused and made me cringe at the idea. "I am not his type. He likes them sweet and beautiful. I am not sure what category I fall into but it certainly isn't that."

"I can't say I agree. You're sweet. If you think you hide it well, you don't."

I hated it when people saw right through the tough exterior, it always felt safer be thought of a harsh. But I often found I was fooling myself, everyone knew how good natured I was. Some tried to abuse it and that was something I would no longer stand for. "Shhh don't spread such cruel lies," I joked.

"And you’re gorgeous, I have seen a few here staring at you when they think you're not looking," she tittered to herself.

I felt embarrassed by the compliment so I ignored it and reflected "What is funny?"

"I can't tell you. It’s too weird."

"Oh come on. You can't say that then end the conversation," I exclaimed as my curiosity peaked.

"It was nothing. Just me being silly," she dismissed.

I would have pressed her but I was already weary from the day and more so as time drew on, before giving in to the exhaustion I muttered with a light humor in my tone, "Don't think the matters closed.”

I fell asleep feeling like I was among friends. It was unusual but nice.

* * *

 

Lucy awoke with a similar unpleasant start to me. Only her screams were beginning to sound more pained, and the look of terror in her eyes before she realized it was only a dream was difficult to witness. I took to her side and held her until the shaking abated. She leaned upon me and Wystan for support. I knew I should have let her toughen up as the General had said but I couldn’t ignore her pleas.

That morning I saw Samson making his way to his tent. I was wondering what he did in the early hours that took him from his tent? I dare not ask and stealth was not a talent I had mastered. So I settled for just smiling at him in passing. He looked to Lucy who was beside me and then gave me a curt nod. I shrugged off the brisk acknowledgment he was a busy man after all. I looked at Lucy who was giggling to herself.  
“What?” I was forced to exclaim.

“Oh nothing,” she snickered.

After a short morning practice session, me fighting the air with my blade, and Lucy shooting the poor helpless trees I spent another long day in the healing tent. Where I was forced to watch my fellow Templars fade away, it wore upon me more than I care to admit. The addiction made me both love and hate lyrium. I saw the damage it did but I still longed for it every moment. Focusing became difficult. I would long for my cot at the end of the day but I found myself on watch once again, not that I begrudged them their happiness. I was just so tired.

Wystan and Lucy's love affair continued for weeks with no one the wiser until a new recruit stumbled upon them as a result of my exhaustion. After another round of recruitment, it was becoming difficult to keep track of new faces. I was becoming so distant. I felt that they wouldn’t last long, so why open myself up to greater pain? I tried to reason with the recruit I caught spying a little too late and when that failed I attempted to threaten him into silence about their relationship but I realized I could hardly maim him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My compassion led to their secret getting out, and when a recruit was sent to tell me the General wished to see me, my heart was in my mouth. I lingered outside his tent pacing awaiting him to call me in. I may have had the defiant spirit within but I hated how I felt when I was reprimanded. I felt sure of my convictions but inside I felt shaky, and terrified.  
"Bethan," he called and the pressure upon my chest grew.  
I tried to steady my breath as I went in, nothing would steady my nerves. I did not want to look him in the eye when I stopped before the table in his tent. I looked down at the ground, finding my feet and the armor surrounding them suddenly fascinating.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I hesitated, lifting my eyes slowly to meet his harsh glare. He began his tirade without me even taking a breath.

"What do think this is? Some kind of game? How long did you think you could hide this little affair?" Samson exclaimed furiously.

"No of course not. B-b-but they are human, sir, I see nothing wrong in allowing them that," I desperately tried to justify my actions, not being able to answer all questions.

"You see nothing wrong in it? These are pointless distractions. We cannot forget out purpose," he chided.

"They don't. I have spent time among the troops. I understand without Corypheus that none of this would be possible but it is you they respect. And when the time comes to fight they will do so because they believe in you, trust you. Nothing will distract them from that."

Samson looked to me as if startled before he stated, "What about why you’re fighting?"

"To change this world. I have lost my faith in many things in my lifetime and I think it is time things change." All true, but I knew I did not agree with his methods, but I could hardly tell him that.

"Well, then you must understand why personal relationships will distract soldiers. If I bloody gave in to every whim..." He looked up at me his eyes lingering a little before he continued, "You know this means all three of you have to be punished. I can't allow such things to happen on my watch. Be thankful, if we didn't have such a great need for soldiers all three of you would suffer much worse as I well know," he almost sounded as if he was justifying what he would have to do next. But he did not reveal our punishment.

"Worse. How so?" The words had left my lips before I could think better of them.

"Just be glad it's me and not the elder one doling out the punishments. You think I want to have to treat my soldiers like children, doling out punishments for this kind of behavior?" He exclaimed in frustration.

"I understand that this is not what you want to be doing sir, and I apologize. But they are my friends I also have loyalty to them."

I was shocked when he suddenly rounded his desk, I dropped my gaze to avoid the ire I had unintentionally stoked. I did ramble when I was nervous often making things worse. He grabbed my face roughly, forcing me to meet his furious glare. He loomed over me, his breath a little labored, I assumed from the lyrium. I, however, wanted to run, I gulped expecting his sudden tirade to continue but he just held in place keeping my eyes upon his.

The silence only punctuated by his strained shallow breaths. Broken finally when he declared, "Your first loyalty is to the red Templar's, and when I am done with you, you will remember that."

Just before Samson dismissed me he added, "Your punishment needs to be more severe given not only that you chose to hide this from your superiors, but that you threatened a fellow recruit."

I left shaken and wishing I had kept my mouth shut, I always said revealed too much of my own thoughts when anxious. How did I manage to always drop my guard with Samson? I should know better, he is my enemy, I berated myself all the way back to my tent. It was empty and I was left to stew over the possibilities of my punishment.

* * *

 

I could not have been prepared for how insidious and harsh our punishments were. My lifelines Lucy and Wystan were taken from me. Lucy was moved to another tent. Wystan was no longer allowed to spar with me and I was only allowed to work with the beasts. Forced back to harvesting the lyruim, Samson was intent to teach me a lesson. And the worst came when I went for my lyrium dose. "I know how painful it is to suffer the withdrawal, but you need to realize that I am in charge here."

I felt my morale dropping with each day I had no one to turn to, each moment without lyrium was agonizing and the pain only grew. I felt painful hunger gnawing at my stomach as my y blood ran cold.

It became almost impossible to bear upon the second day alone as the red was all I wanted and needed, I was consumed by the need. Day three I became delirious. With my senses playing tricks on me, my energy faded until I dropped to the ground. I tried to pull back up but my muscles tremored and gave way under the attempt, crashing me back to the ground. Everything faded to black.

I was only semi-conscious, the world was a blurred jumble. I heard a distant voice call, "Shit. How long have you been like this? …Bethan, can you hear me?"

I could hear him but I was unable to respond. A red light followed by a soothing feeling was all I recalled before I faded once more.

I awoke alone in my tent to find I couldn't lift my head without the world spinning. It was apt given my world was spiraling out of control, the blood on my hands once again fresh, and the craving had been my only thought for I couldn't recall how long it had been as it felt like an age. I was feeling a little stronger. I held to the sides of the cot and slowly lifted my throbbing head to venture a look at my surroundings. I almost jolted, had I felt the full force of my shock I was convinced it would have sent the cot tumbling to ground. I managed to contain my horror so it merely rocked. Samson was sitting in the corner of my tent. I had no words, I just looked to the ground.

"You have been an interesting study sweetheart. Never a pretty sight withdrawal. I know. I feel my point has been made, you will return to healing tent after your lyrium dose. Do not keep pushing me," he warned.  
I dropped back, feeling silence was the best answer.

My confidence was shaken. I now believed all I made were missteps. I tried to steal my nerves by convincing myself that without the ties to the Templar's I could be a better double agent but I missed Lucy. The tent was too silent without her. I found myself under watch, when it wasn't Samson's eyes upon me, it felt as though someone took up the role in his place. Was this a lingering paranoia from the withdrawal? or was I being watched for another misstep? If so I had once again made things much worse for myself. I began to feel trapped. I only saw Lucy and Wystan in passing, and if we even motioned toward each other Cruise, or Samson seemed to always manage to be there to intercept us. That couldn't just be paranoia; they had to be watching us.

With no one to talk to, and so self-contained, I began to feel more and more isolated, and unable to find an escape. And it seemed as if the maker is they even existed had a cruel sense of humor. I was sitting in the healing tent when they rushed in Cruise, I wasn't prepared to see him becoming a beast. My heart sunk as used poultices to ease the pain of shards piercing the skin and poured potions down his throat as his hands were too shaky to do so himself. I couldn't hide the pain this brought to the surface, he was a good man. He had not become my confidant but he was the only friendly face I saw since they split Wystan, Lucy and myself up. He was not crying out in pain, he was able to withhold his anguish, but I could see it in his eyes, I knew that haunted look too well. Tears spilled down my face as I tended to him but I did not stop for a moment. I was slumped in my chair keeping a watch over Cruise. I ignored his dismissal of my help "I will be fine, go and sleep. That is an order."

That did not move me. I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes obscuring the bloody mass of a man upon the cot before me. "You're not in charge in this tent. I won't sleep much so I may as well be of use lieutenant." I stressed.

He sighed heavily. When a wave of emotion took me I turned to him and began "Sir you have been the best lieutenant I have ever had the..."

He stopped me with a horse exclamation with strained cheer, "I am becoming a better solider Bethan, you need not worry for me."

"I know, but I want you to know I have appreciated all you have done," I added trying desperately to hold back the tears threatening to flow once more.

I wanted to scream with rage when Samson came to see him as I could only think 'is this what you want, your best lieutenant lost to the corruption?' I didn't say it because I was forcing my focus to Cruise.  
"Recruit I would suggest you go and sleep since there is nothing you can do. I will watch over him," he stated in a disinterested tone. He elongated the recruit as if he wanted me to be aware I was nameless and faceless to him once more.  
I was once again nothing and nobody. I was so tired, but I was also angry, and defiant. I wanted to be here for Lieutenant Cruise, so I strained, "My expertise may be of use."

Samson said nothing more, taking a seat beside me. The night was a long one. The tension of Samson’s presence did not help. I aided Cruise with his pain when I could. Samson was different with Cruise, retelling stories bringing weak smiles and pained laughter from him. It was nice to observe but I had to remind myself he was my enemy, not my general or my friend. But I still found myself smiling when he talked about their exploits.

I jolted in the chair, I must have dozed off. I looked up at Cruise with my bleary eyes to find he was sleeping. I yawned, pulling up as the light began to run through the tent. I took over to him, his breath was labored. His chest was barely visible through the fast growing shards of lyrium. He was gone, it shook me just how fast the change had happened. That face that I had looked to for guidance, that man I respected and trusted had become this thing before me. I gasped.

I forgot the strained dynamic between me and Samson and panicked I turned to him "When did it start? Why didn't you wake me?" I cried.

"Late last night, I gave him something for the pain and you needed the rest," he sighed heavily.

That wasn't good enough for me. I do not know what solace it would have given me, but to miss his last moments felt like a loss. "No, that can't be it. He was a good man, this can't be his end.No," I hissed through the painful lump in my throat.

"Bethan he isn't dead," he gave me a pointed look.

I didn't care, I felt like I was reeling. I was truly alone here. "Is this really what you want for us?" I cried.

He narrowed his eyes upon me, I could only assume my tears were what saved me from the backlash I expected or Samson truly didn't want this and was now too trapped by circumstance that he was forced to walk the path wherever it led?

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” he stressed.

This only inflamed my rage, the red lyrium surged through my blood. For a moment I lost myself, I only regained any rational thought as I felt my arms restrained, crossed over my chest with Samson speaking calmly to me, “Calm down, don’t let it overpower you. I don’t want to have to hurt you but I will,” he warned.

It was a struggle to regain control but I slowly felt the energy ebb away. Samson turned me to face him and dragged me toward him. I tried to pull away; I was frightened thinking at first he meant to hurt me. Then I felt a fury take me when he tried to put his arms around me, I struggled raging against him until I wore myself out. He pulled me into an embrace and held me allowing me to cry as long as I needed. I was desperate for comfort and it no longer mattered who offered it, so I pulled closer to him forgetting all that had passed trying to let my racing mind to process this. Lieutenant Cruise was gone. In that pained moment I realized Samson had lost a friend.

"I am sorry for your loss Sir," I whispered into his ear.

He pulled my face back as he took his arms from around me, he looked into my eyes and for a moment I saw something more than just a glimmer of humanity; it was as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words or felt unable. He seemed to be shocked free of that moment, as he released my face suddenly and remarked, "I have other duties to see to. You have seen this before. You will be fine." He seemed to pull his mask back on, leaving me alone with the shell that was once Cruise.

I was at a loss as to whether I should mourn him as in some form he sat before me, trapped inside his own body. I prayed despite not being sure anyone was listening, 'Don't let this happen to me' I confessed my fear to the ether, and it too was gone. I was alone.


	10. Recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan joins a recruitment run.

The watchful eyes upon me seemed to falter as Lieutenant Cruise’s transformation continued, he was gone and a horror was left in his place. It was strange to not hearing his orders during training. Whenever they called his name now I was shocked to see the hulking beast that answered, I still couldn’t quite believe it was him. I found myself hoping that his change had been a nightmare that he was busy but it was real. It felt difficult to watch him struggle, to look into his eyes and hope there would be some form of recognition but to find nothing. It broke my heart a little each time. The only minor benefit of this terrible moment is that it allowed to pair with Wystan and talk to Lucy-Maker, I had missed them both- and I needed them now more than ever. At first, I didn’t quite know what to say and neither did they. I can only assume they felt some sense of guilt. I wanted to say so much but I feared becoming close with them again as wouldn’t they suffer the same fate. Could I bear to watch them fade away? The loss of Lieutenant Cruise seemed to hit us all harder than we had expected, all except for the new recruits. I couldn’t tell if they were fortunate to not have to feel the strange sense of loss, or was it sad that they would never get to meet the man. On some level, I blamed Samson but also was feeling more and more at a loss with him. I felt conflicted. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking of him as anything but my General but I found my imagination had ideas of its own. Each time I saw Samson after the moment in the healing tent, he no longer acknowledged me, he looked away.

I took this opportunity to send another report to the Inquisition, telling them of our movements, recruitment, all I could ascertain well no eyes were upon me. I once again left out any remark upon my condition as the withdrawal had frightened me. I was dependent upon red lyrium now, and I did not wish to admit that it was beginning to affect me, even to myself. So I set the crow free, hearing it caw in the distance as it was free to come and go as it pleased, the very thought brought back that envy. I felt tied here, leashed to red lyrium, I had been lucky enough to not fee this as keenly as my fellow Templar's. This was a cruel dependency to enforce upon those who only wished to serve and protect, well that was all most Templar’s wanted to do.

As I stepped into Samson’s tent to get my lyrium dose, I found him pacing. He turned to look at me and stated almost accusingly, “you.”

I felt weary as he tore over. I tensed not sure what to expect as his tone suggested to me I had done something wrong. He scrutinized my face before remarking, “yes, that could work. You have that dopey doe-eyed look.”  
I narrowed my eyes, feeling a little insulted by his abrasive manner. “Excuse me, Sir?”

“Lieutenant Cruise often aided with recruitment and in his current form he would be better when strong arming is necessary. You would prove useful as you still look relatively untouched by the red.”

“You want me to aid with recruitment?”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about dragging more hapless Templar’s down on their luck to this end but I was sure that Samson wasn’t asking.

“You seem to be the best candidate. You haven’t got any obvious signs of corruption like your fellow Templar's. Even your eyes don't show any telling signs of corruption, ” he stated with what sounded like disbelief.

I had to hold my tongue. Many remarks came to mind but I had to be more careful around him, so I settled for giving him a scathing look . He just appeared amused. “You will have to do better than that sweetheart. You might want to clean yourself up before we move out.” He finished looked me up and down. I wasn’t dirty, well no more than my fellow Templar’s, he was making a point of being harsh with me-maybe to show how he didn’t have any other choice but me.

He placed my lyrium dose before me, there were only two vials. Why had my dose dropped? This wouldn’t be enough to settle the thirst even for a moment. I wanted to ask why my dose had lessened but I feared the craving would add a desperate edge to my question, so I swallowed the meager amount swiftly and left before I could give it another moment of thought and said something foolish.

As I returned to my tent, I was shocked but pleased to see my friend before me, “Lucy?”

“I am surprised as you, but...” She trailed off and hugged me with her usual enthusiasm. I don’t think she realized her own strength. I strained to breathe audibly in the hope she would relent, she did.

“I am pleased to see you too,” I strained as I gulped in precious air.

“Are you coming to training this morning?” She ventured, sounding almost hopeful to have time to catch up.

“No, sadly I have to aid with recruitment today. It seems I will be filling in for some of Lieutenant Cruise’s old duties,” I sighed heavily feeling a stab upon mentioning his name.

“It will be strange to train and not hear his words of encouragement and wisdom of the rules. He almost made me feel like the rules were worth following.” She added with trepidation, "It feels like we have lost him, and that saddens and frightens me."

I felt a wave of sadness of the possibility of her changing next. I wanted to tell her she would be okay but that was a lie. I could see the signs of the corruption so clearly upon her face. Her bloodshot eyes looked as if pleading for me to have the right words. I felt at a loss. So the truth slipped out, "I don't know if I can take watching you fade."

I didn't want to frighten her. I felt guilty for needing to own my pain. She gulped but she couldn't hold back the tears that rushed free of her eyes. I pulled her into my arms, and we both allowed our pain to find a release. It took some time before I felt strong enough to pull free. Lucy sniffed, picking up her gear I assumed she was trying to ready herself to leave for training. “So when do you have to leave?” Lucy posed with a lingering sadness in her eyes.

“I assume as soon as possible,” I stated sadly.

She sighed heavily. I broke eye contact feeling a little guilty for having to leave her like this.

She tried to look unconcerned as she added, “So, who is going on this run with you? Is it just you and the General?”

“I don’t quite know. I didn’t ask as it was an order. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she gave a weak smile and then continued, “I just imagine that would be awkward.”

I knew she was right but how could I explain any of this without embarrassing myself, so I settled for changing the subject “Speaking of awkward, how are you and Wystan?”

She dropped her head into her hands, "We are so sorry for getting you caught in the middle of our affair. I feel terrible I heard about you collapsing. I can’t believe he did that to you. I expected that he would be lenient with you."

I shuddered as I recalled the short time without lyrium. "It was horrible, but I would do it again for you two.” She had made a similar strange remark earlier. I chose to press her this time as I narrowed my eyes and added, “And why would you think he would be lenient with me?”

She seemed caught off guard by my question and she just remarked hastily, “I thought he trusted you.”

“Well if he did, he doesn’t now,” I remarked without thinking.

She smiled through her pained expression. "You are a good friend. I shouldn't keep you; I don't want to get you into more trouble." She grimaced.

"Don't worry about me. I will see you soon," I assured her and myself, praying to an unknown force that she would still be herself when I came back. Lieutenant Cruise’s change had caught me off guard I didn’t wish for it to happen again. Lucy's corruption had run so much faster so it was a concern. I still wasn't sure I believed in anything but praying of late seemed to be a habit rather than genuine belief.

"Be careful," She remarked ominously.

I took to the cold river, trying to not let my need for lyrium overwhelm me. I disrobed carefully before taking a slow walk into the water, the cold slowly enveloping me. I pulled under. I opened my eyes to find that the water was murky, nothing was clear. It was rather apt given my current situation. I surfaced. The water and the peace of nature no longer soothed the gnawing in my stomach and the cry of my mind for more lyrium. I struggled to focus. I was forced to shake my head as if casting the thoughts aside, it did not work of course but the mild dizziness pulled from the edge by drawing away focus.

I did not waste any more time, I pulled out not caring for the chill that tried to settle upon me, it was bracing and distracting. I dressed still damp. Ringing my hair, I took to the task of cleaning each piece of armor until it looked almost new. It was strange to still be wearing my old Templar uniform at times, I saw many others in there's but others in special red Templar armor. Did that mean I was yet to be accepted? Was I still being forced to prove myself? The thought exhausted me.

I returned to my tent to find Samson awaiting me impatiently, he had changed into his old Templar uniform. He looked less imposing in it. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him back then but I realized I was a little too lost in my obsession with Cullen. I felt mildly embarrassed as to how I could be so consumed when I started liking someone. Was I doing this with Samson now? I hoped not but I found had to fight the smile trying to spread across my face. He looked up at me, narrowed his eyes and remarked, "What? It is less jarring for people to see us in Templar uniforms they recognize. Let's go."

When I followed him out of the tent and I was relieved to see others Templar’s and beasts to make the journey with us, they remained in red Templar uniform. I wanted to question Samson but I once again bit down upon my tongue. He must have his reasons for bringing me along. I thought, and who am I to question him? For me it still felt awkward and tense, trying to avoid glancing in his direction. And each time I accidentally did our eyes would meet, and I would look away swiftly as if I was doing something wrong. My heart pounded, why was I feeling so nervous? I was a soldier not a teenager, I should be able to focus I chided myself the rest of the way.

It had been a long and tense walk to the nearest town. Samson spoke to the other Templar’s after the camp was established. “You will all be waiting in the wings should it be necessary to call upon you. I will signal you.” They all simply nodded as if they knew the drill. 

“And what of me?” I pressed.

“You will be observing and keep a look out for any trouble until I feel you are ready to work on your own.”

We left our fellow Templar's to camp at a distance. It seemed as if it would just be me and Samson heading up this one.

"Follow my lead, you will be surprised at how many Templar's are struggling." He almost sounded saddened by their plight.

This town was a small one, with only a few homes. I just stood back and watch Samson attempt to speak to a small group of villagers. I kept surveying the area and I spotted a rather large man bounding over, looking furious as his arms pumped and his faced reddened. His brow was deeply furrowed. I stood up and hastily took over to Samson. "Sir, we have trouble."

He followed my eyes over to the man incoming, and he took a defensive stance in front of me. I don't know if I felt flattered or offended that he took up in front of me, and I had no time to decide. Samson squared up to him. The man held an accusing finger in his face declaring "I know why you're here. We don't have any villagers to sacrifice to this mad war. So, be on your way."

I could only imagine the look on Samson's face, ready to kill. His response was not what I expected. He sounded so calm and measured. "We are only here to give the opportunity to any who wish to take it. They have the right to refuse."

"Didn't you hear me? Leave now or you will be asking for trouble you and your little tart." He scowled at me.

His arm that had been held up guarding me, he now used to motion me behind him. "You're testing my patience now." The man exclaimed shaking a fist.

"I am testing yours?" Samson spat derisively.

He attempted to push Samson. He didn't even manage to move him an inch. The man looked frustrated, so he tried again to no avail. The strain beginning to show upon his rotund face, sweat glazing his large forehead. "Get lost,” he strained.

Samson warned him, "Do yourself a favor and back off. Don't embarrass yourself further."

He gave the obnoxious man every chance to back off, so I wasn't surprised when he was forced to throw a punch. The man crashed to the ground, and finally used his brain and remained down merely casting evil glances up at us.

"Let's leave this little shit hole!” Samson declared to me while signaling our fellow Templar's.

It was strangely thrilling to see Samson in action without being on the receiving end. He was strong but only fought when necessary. I could feel that feeling rising within me, and I found myself looking to him. The feeling faded when I was met with a cold stare, he called to follow. I followed after him wondering if it was always so difficult to recruit or whether my presence was the problem. As if he read my mind he turned to me and remarked, "It doesn't always go so badly but we have had a few in the past get more out of hand than that, as you yourself witnessed. They killed a group of my Templar’s in that village so I was forced to take a harsher stance."

That felt like so long ago. “Explains the murderous look on your face,” I quipped.

“They were my men, and they had not done anything. They were cowards stabbed them in the back.” He scowled recalling the memory. “Not a good day but we got a half decent recruit out of it.”

“Is that a compliment, sir?” I smiled to myself.

“Don’t read too much into that. You’re useful at times.” He waved his hand dismissively as if batting the conversation away.

I looked at him and without thinking, I asked, "Why did you pull me behind you?"

"I did?" He added as if the behavior had been a reflex, but for what I could see it had been intentional but he was trying to dismiss it for some reason. Every time it seemed like he did something for me I observed him becoming awkward in manner or become harsh. I wondered whether he just didn’t want to admit that he felt something for me. Or was I seeing things that weren’t there?

He said nothing more only leaving me with questions, if he did it without thinking was that gallant or just him assuming I was a delicate flower? He wouldn't have brought me if he didn't think me able surely, he wouldn't have accepted me either I reasoned.

It took some time to reach the next town on foot. The other Templar’s followed on and moved their camp to the nearby woods of the next place. I wondered if I was imagining things or were there less of them than when we started with.

"Weren't there more soldiers?" I mused aloud.

"Yes. That town wasn't a total loss. Found a use for them."

"Lyrium?" I remarked feeling sick to my stomach. So many actions performed on behalf of this elder one were deplorable.

"Yes. Don't give me that look. You can't change the world without an army behind you. We need you all at your best and this is the only way."

"Yes, Sir." my words dripped with sarcasm.

He either didn't care or was not fazed as he just continued on.

This was a bigger town, and the light was starting to fade from the sky. Before leaving the others at camp, we removed our armor, taking to this new town in casual attire. It seemed we could declare this day a waste upon recruitment. He took to what looked to be a local inn, once you stepped in it became obvious it was a brothel. Beautiful men and women draped fawning over patrons making them feel special. I felt a new level of discomfort passing through such open displays, not knowing where to put my eyes. I somehow ended up clinging to Samson in my anxiety. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me with eyes that seemed to be questioning. I released his arm, "Sorry, Sir. I feel a little uncomfortable."

"You're about to turn a brighter shade of red. Do you want to indulge? Man, woman, male or female elf? As far as I can see here they would be your options."

I gulped and shook my head. "You will have to wait here then. I will be a while." He grinned. I can only guess that he must have noticed that I looked on edge when he stated. "I was used to coming on these runs with Cruise."

"Please tell me Cruise never..." I didn't know how to finish that sentence, but I couldn't imagine Cruise being that kind of man.

"No, he remained loyal to his wife." He raised his eyes in mock disapproval. A lingering sadness held whenever I heard his name. I wondered if it was the same for Samson?

"That's sweet. I didn't know he was married."

"You wouldn't. He rarely talked about her. Lost her to some crazed blood mage with a vendetta. Quite sad really. Anyway, I would suggest you get a drink and hide in a corner somewhere as the men and women in here will either mistake you for a working girl or a potential customer." He laughed to himself.

"A working girl?" I exclaimed.

"Well, you know a..." He coughed and seemed as if he was trying to find the right words. "Girl like you stands out."

"I will try to stay out of the way," I promised, hoping there would be a corner that wasn't taken already.

Samson walked over to the madam. "What will it be?" She smiled seductively.

He looked back at me for a moment and whispered something to her. And she took his coin and spirited him away. I was alone. I felt more than awkward looking around, but I couldn't keep my eyes to the ground as maker knows what I would walk toward. I found a table and I ordered the house ale and sat down, staring into my glass. I felt strange surrounded by people in the midst of pawing one another. It was like a regular tavern, but certain patrons required a more coercion before they parted with their coin. And it seemed that some just enjoyed the public aspect. I tried to block out the soft moans and feigned delight going on around me. I could feel my cheeks reddening the longer I sat square in the middle of the room. I sat thinking about how I wanted to be anywhere but here. I glanced up and noticed a woman sauntering over to me. I panicked wondering what she was coming over for before I recalled she was the madam. "You’re very open-minded," she declared with a warm smile as she drew close enough for me to hear.

She took a seat beside me. I raised my eyebrow "what makes you say that?"

"Well, you're OK with your man being serviced while you wait down here."

"My man?"

"Are you two not?" She sounded surprised.

"No. He is my General nothing more."

"Pardon my assumption, but you would assume so given your way with each other and the looks he gives you."

I laughed. "If you think scowling and sneering are romantic, who am I to judge?"

"The looks he gives you when you're not looking. His eyes linger I know a smitten man when I see one."

This had to be utter nonsense, she was board and entertaining herself. So I smiled and stated, "You’re obviously mistaken."

"Perhaps, though…If you had heard what he asked me for, you would know better." She smiled knowingly.

"Why? what did he say?" I felt nervous and curious. But I had the sense she wouldn't be able or willing to tell me.

“Maybe you should ask him?” She smiled knowingly.

Her smile annoyed me as it was that smug, I know something you don’t look. I didn't want to over-think it but my mind was trying to run away with itself. I tried to focus upon my ale, not the questions this raised for me. 

I drank a little more than I intend in my anxiety. Finishing my second ale, I walked over to the bar to order drink. I was about to finish my second ale. I walked over to the bar order another drink, I was about to return to my table when one of the women wandered down laughing to herself. I lingered sipping my ale waiting for her to pass me, but she parked herself in front of me and began talking loudly to the madam. Having nothing better to do, I decided to tune my ears to the conversation. 

"Templar's aren't half strange, he kept calling me by another name,” She tittered.

"What did he call you?" the madam pressed with an amused grin.

"Bethan, maker knows who that is. Hope it wasn't his mother's name that would be creepy."

I returned to the table. I shouldn’t have listened in. Feeling on edge I began swinging my chair, I leaned back too far, that little revelation had thrown me. I tumbled to the ground and quickly pulled up and dusted myself off, my cheeks burned with embarrassment for the fall. What did I do with that information? Was it a simple mistake and the madam was just playing games with me out of boredom? Or was it that Samson merely desired me or was there more? Why was I hoping for more? Either way, I just wanted to escape this place, the atmosphere had become a little too close.

I attempted to rush passed the madam, but she called after me, “it was nice to meet you, Bethan."

I waited outside for Samson, it was a little cold but the embarrassment held me to the spot. I couldn't go back in there. He walked out and over to me. "Why are you outside?" He pressed his breath smelling distinctly of the ale I had been indulging in and it looked like he had maybe had too many himself.

"Less awkward out here," I remarked.

"Ah yes they told me about you'll falling flat, shame I missed it." He guffawed.

"Yes bloody amusing," I grumbled still feeling the mild sting of embarrassment.

"Oh come on sweetheart. You look adorable when you're embarrassed." His eyes widened after he said this as if he had not intended to say it aloud.

I wasn't sure what compelled me but I returned trying to help him and myself out of the tense silence that followed, "Nice to know I could amuse you."

"Would have been better to see. Not going back to that bloody tent.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yes, and why not? if you indulge one vice, what’s another eh?”

“Should we find a place to stay?” I suggested.

“Whatever you want sweetheart. Or we could stay here, maybe find out a few things about you?” he gave a wolfish grin.

My cheeks burned.

“You’re so easy to embarrass.” His grin grew wider. “It’s quite amusing.”

I somehow managed to persuade him even in his state of inebriation to follow me. We managed to find a regular tavern that had rooms. I felt strange sharing a room with him after all I had heard today. I felt better seeing two beds. I took to mine, "What did you say to the madam?" I found curiosity getting the better of me.

"Why do you ask?"

"She was acting strangely."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He taunted, he seemed a little sheepish before he pulled off his shirt. I found my eyes lingering upon him, "l am more interested to know whether you sleep in your clothes or do I get to see something? You have seen me as I recall. It’s only fair.” He smiled widely.

“I sleep in my clothes,” I replied hastily wanting to shut down his drunken flirtation.

“No exceptions for me, Bethan?” He pressed grinning.

“General!” I exclaimed.

“Aye, you can’t blame a man for trying, especially with a girl like you.”

“Girl like me?” After I said it I regretted it, this was embarrassing for me, as he would be able to claim no memory I, on the other hand, would recall everything.

“You’re beautiful. Don’t pretend you don’t know. Don’t fish for more compliments.” He stated sleepily.

I had no idea how to respond to that but thankfully I didn’t have to as he must have fallen asleep. The silence that followed was strained for me at least. Samson seemed to have no issue sleeping. I cast my eyes over to him hoping that I could see something that would explain why I was drawn to him. He wasn’t handsome in a classic way he had an unusual look to him. Despite the embarrassment of my earlier behavior I still felt a pull toward him. I chided myself for being so foolish, I had well and truly mired myself in this mess. I wanted more but felt guilty as if I had somehow wronged Cullen by wanting another. I had to stop thinking of this as it only served to frustrate annoy and add to the mounting guilt upon me.

I dropped back down and just as I was about to doze off in the warmth provided by the real sheets, I heard what sounded like muttering at first but soon it became louder. Samson was talking in his sleep and he sounded terrified. On impulse, I dragged myself up and took to his side. “Samson its Bethan, you’re safe now,” I whispered.

And when this didn’t calm him I took up beside him and pulled my arms around him. I was taken back to find that deep in his slumber he registered my presence, or maybe it was not me he was pulling close, either way, it calmed him. Silence reigned once more. I found the warmth of his skin both soothing and awkward, I had no idea how I would disentangle myself from him without waking him, I feared his reaction.

I must have fallen asleep as the next thing I recall was Samson exclaiming, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Maker I must have fallen asleep. You were crying out in pain and I couldn't just ignore it."

"I am not some pathetic wounded bird in need of your care, to fix or pity." He pulled further away as if revolted.

"I don't pity you, I empathize and I have only felt a fraction of your pain." I stammered trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes so I could focus through the mild haze.

His eyes narrowed, he held his distance but relaxed slowly. “Why are we here?”

“You were drunk and I am not strong enough to carry you to camp.”

“Did you not report to the camp?”

“No, sir.”

“Bloody hell. My head is pounding. Give me a minute.”

My heart was still pounding heavily; it was becoming clear that when it came to love or caring for another that I didn't think clearly. I reached out with a shaky hand to his shoulder, when my fingers connected with his skin, he moved. "Bethan." He stressed before continuing "I am your general, even if I wanted anything else..."

"But you do want something else?" I returned, finding that I needed to know.

"I can't answer that." He groaned in frustration clinging to his head.

"Is it because of the rules or is there more to it?" I was beginning to ramble like I always did when I was nervous.

Before I could continue his hands were holding to the side of my face. I hadn't even noticed him move. The warmth of his breath teasing my lips made me tremble. The tension of him being so close was unbearable. I wanted him to just pull that bit closer but he took his finger and pressed it to my lips. He gulped, and his audible shock when I nipped his finger gave me some sense of satisfaction. All this push and pull was frustrating.

He pulled back and muttered, “Oh shit.” leaving me feeling confused and a little rejected. I looked up at him questioningly.

"I had to shut you up somehow," He stated dismissively.

I raised an eyebrow, there had to be more to this. His cheeks were ruddy and his eye contact was evasive. He cleaned the cold sweat still clinging to him. I found myself staring as wiped himself down. My eyes taking in his toned physique, I had to bite my lip to stop my thoughts from wandering. He caught me staring, my cheeks ran hot as he declared, "The shows over. Get ready."

He dressed swiftly and gave me a warning stare to hurry up. I felt unfocused as I fought with the straps on my leg plates. When I finally managed to put my final piece of armor on, I found I could no longer make eye contact with him without blushing. This was going to be a long and difficult day.


	11. New recruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samson and Bethan draw new people to their cause

We took to the slums within this town. It was a horrific sight to behold, I had never spent much time in Lowtown when in Kirkwall, it may have been to avoid what was now staring me in the face. There were men, women and children all struggling to survive, some looked ill, others malnourished to the point of baring a greater resemblance to skeletons than human beings. I wanted to look away as it was difficult to face such suffering. It was painful to see the people here, people like them that I should have been helping in Kirkwall but chose to hide from. I had also been brainwashed to fear them on some level with the stories other Templars told us. But they did not rush us or try to steal from us like I had been told, I should have known better. It was much worse than that, they feared us. They cowered upon sight of us, those who had strength to do so. Pulling back further into dingy alley ways and dark corners until they felt safe from us, beyond our reach. These people weren’t just down on their luck, they were cast aside and forgot by this world. I think that Samson felt a genuine empathy for them as that had been him at some point, suffering with no hope in sight or so Cullen had told me. I wondered what would have happened if I had searched him out back then, but I could only imagine he would have told me to get lost. Or maybe I could have helped him. I would never know the truth of it now. I could only assume that Samson like these people on the street had watched both their dignity and health fade. Some of these upon this street desperately clung to their dignity, they did not beg, nor even cast their eyes to us. Others in their desperation recited the same plea over and over in a manic desperate tone, “Help me, please.”

Their pleas were hard to ignore. The more compos mentis of those relegated to the darker parts of this town cast suspicious glances our way, some even questioned our presence. “What are you two doing here?”

Samson took the lead upon this. “I am here only to offer you a second chance. Whether you take it is up to you.”

“No one cares about our suffering. Addicts they call us, say we brought this upon ourselves. How would you know? Why would you care?” The man hissed accusingly at us.

“I do know. I know the hunger that eats at you, the strange clouding of your mind, feeling as though your sanity is slipping. The pain that tears at you. The days were you can barely move, when the world is flame, then cold as ice. I know it. Wanting to never see lyrium again but it is all you can think about.”

I felt my eyes widen as Samson told them of his own suffering, I felt ashamed to know that my fellow Templar's had suffered and I had not seen it, or noticed it.

Half of these beggars we discovered were former Templar's who had struggled with lyrium and the order had cast them out as addicts and deemed them not strong enough to stand among their fellow Templars. We rarely heard of their plights as the order had probably not wanted this knowledge to get out. Their stories of suffering were as hard to hear as Samson’s. The tell-tale signs of the addiction showed in their eyes and skin. Their hands shook, and when Samson showed them that someone cared what happened to them they seemed to manage weak smiles. I felt guilt at the idea of them trading one painful addiction for another but it was also nice to see Samson showing a little humanity. He told them where our camp was and that shelter and food awaited them, but he did not speak of anything beyond that. It took me by surprise that he offered the same to all of those who could accept his hand, and asked that others id those that could not. He found the need to continue the kindness, maybe this did remind him of the times he was struggling.

There was sadly so many suffering and the only hand being held out to them was his, so why should they turn it away? I wondered if this was how Samson was drawn into service. I imagined him on the street barely living until Corypheus found him, it was a painful image. It faded as quickly as my mind had conjured it. The thanks of those Samson had given aid to was the most genuine I had ever seen, it brought tears to my eyes to see their pain and his connection to it.

"Bloody hell, sweetheart- would you get hold of yourself? These men and women have something now. Don't you dare pity them." He grumbled when he noticed me crying.

There is was again, he kept assuming that pity was what moved me to tears, but it was empathy. Maybe there was a little shame for not noticing how my fellow Templar's had suffered. "It is not pity. I may not have suffered as you have, as they have. But that does not mean I cannot see it or understand it," I corrected him.

He narrowed his eyes before adding, "Maybe it isn't. Either way you need to be more contained."

"Sorry, Sir." I remarked feeling a little foolish for letting my emotions rush forth. I felt compelled to say something even at the risk of inciting his anger, so I added tentatively, “I am also sorry that you suffered. No one should have to suffer this.”

He did not respond. He stood with his back to me his stance rigid. His hands shaking at his sides, I feared he would any moment turn and shout me down. But he didn’t, he just took his hands to his face. Then continued forward, I followed after wondering if he had even heard me, I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

After finding all those we could upon the streets we took to a tavern within the town and he turned to me and stated "This would be where you would be of help, speak to Templar's, or those who look as if they need something. When you speak to them merely peak their interest, I will take over from there until I feel you are ready to do more.”

“What do you tell them, Sir?” I mused.

“That is something best left for another time for now just draw them in would you,” he grumbled as if annoyed by my question.

It felt like I would be taking advantage of someone in need but he was watching me like a hawk, so I wandered among the tables and found a man sitting alone at a table in the corner nursing his drink. His armor looked as if it had seen better days. It was Orlesian I could tell from the design. His build was that of an average solider from what I could see. I could only see his black hair peppered with grey to measure his age as he was looking down into his drink. 

"Things that bad?" I ventured.

He ran his fingers through his short hair before he looked up. He flashed me a dazzling smile. He was a very handsome man, his chiseled cheeks and square jaw made him rather striking. Age and stubble gave him a more rugged appeal; his blue eyes were mildly blood shot. "Hello," he purred with a mild Orlesian twang.

"May I take a seat?"

"Of course. What man would turn away such a beauty?" My cheeks flushed, I knew his lines were cliche but he somehow managed to make them seem so charming. It had to be that smile. He exclaimed, "Where are my manners, would you like a drink?"

I took a seat beside him. He looked to me expectantly. I had no idea where to begin. It seemed as though it would be rude and counterproductive to refuse his offer, so I nodded. And awaited his return, he cast a curious stare to someone in the room. When he took a seat he placed ale in front of me, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “do you know there is a man staring at you?"

I turned scanning the room finding only Samson glaring, I turned back. "Ah, that would be my general."

I took a gulp of the ale to wet my dry throat.

"Really? He has more of the look of a jealous husband."

I spat my ale out unintentionally at the implication, laughing aloud. "Been faced down by angry husbands often?" I asked feeling amused.

"More often than I care to admit," he stated, giving a sheepish smile, "But I have also been in the military and my General's never looked to me or other recruits with such...intensity."

"That is how he looks at everyone," I assured him.

"That is rather unnerving." He laughed.

"You get used to it."

"Before you continue I realize I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Warren De Ver."

I recalled hearing the stories from travelers who had made their way to Kirkwall of Warren De Ver and his aiding the hero of Ferelden in the blight. I had taken to the hanged man on occasion to hear a rather outspoken dwarf spin tales. I was convinced I had seen the same dwarf in Skyhold. He was a grand story teller, had me so immersed in the tales he told in the hanged man that at times my fellow Templar's had been forced to elbow me gently to regain my attention. I couldn’t believe it was him.

"Warren De Ver? The same who aided the hero of Ferlden end the blight?" 

"The very same," he declared as if he had said it so many times it was now a stock response.

"What are you doing here?" I found myself getting off track with curiosity. I wanted to ask him so many questions.

"The title sadly did me no favors given how Ferelden felt about Orlais at the time. King Alistair struggled to get me a station of any kind. And sadly when he finally did it was short lived and I was unable to return to service in Orlais given they too had dismissed me from service. A tragic tale, maybe I was not made for military service." He laughed but it was a hollow laugh.

"I am sorry," I stated feeling guilty for raking all of this up for him.

"It is not your fault. What would be your name and story my dear?"

"Bethan. I am a Templar."

"So are you not going to tell me anymore than that?” he pressed.

“Sadly not much to tell, my life has been rather boring.” 

“I very much doubt that. So…you are recruiting me?"

"Only if you are interested. There is a little more to it." I added not wanting to blatantly lie to him, he was a hero after all he deserved respect.

"Isn't there always,” He gave me a weak smile. "Speaking of a little more, what of you?"

"Me?" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling anxious under his gaze.

"Yes." I looked down but felt his hand gently take under my chin and return my eyes to his.

It was flattering to have such a man flirting with me. I cast a glance to Samson, who appeared to be infuriated. I felt a strange urge to stoke jealousy if it even existed. And if it didn’t it was harmless fun.

"I don’t think that is part of the recruitment process," I joked, touching his arm lightly, and smiling as sweetly as I could manage.

"Oh but it should be," he purred, "Are you blushing, my dear?"

"Maybe we should keep things professional for now, hmm." I tried to back track feeling myself getting a little flustered.

"If you insist. Such a shame."

"Indeed." I smiled widely.

“So do I speak to your General if I am interested?" He ventured.

I nodded. He pulled up slowly and wandered over to Samson whose thunderous expression changed once he began to speak with Warren. 

I finished the ale swiftly as I feared I would be spotted or admonished for it. I had wanted to tell Warren everything. He was one of the good guys I hated misleading him a little more than the others who had dedicated themselves to our cause, but it was too late for them they had already made their way to our camp. While Samson was busy talking to Warren I looked around the tavern, wondering who would be next, what would we offer and what would we tell them of what truly lay in store for them? The idea haunted me throughout the day as we drew people in, like moths to a flame.

The recruitment continued with one of us taking the lead, we gained more interest than I expected. I wondered how many would remain interested when they met the horrors and behemoths, and how many would survive the lyrium trail. I did wonder what Samson told them, was he forth coming or was he artful with his words. I sat next to him, taking a gulp of ale to wet my dry throat; I had never talked this much.

"You might want to slow down on that, sweetheart. I can't imagine you to be one who can handle her ale." He gave a sly smile.

"I can manage fine. I seem to recall you not handling yours. But if that is an order, sir, I will make this my last, “I assured him.

He scowled "I can't imagine given the time of day we will find more recruits, so have as many as you can handle ,love."

"No I am fine, I should probably sleep," I remarked as he began to pull up.

"I can’t imagine you will be out here alone for long. Enjoy yourself," He stated sharply, as if annoyed.

"You can't make that an order sir, so I will sleep." I stated feeling both amused and annoyed by what he was inferring. 

I pulled up and waited for him to follow after him. We walked in silence back to the camp. I followed after him into his tent. I wanted to speak to him, privately.

"Look, this has been a long day. Go back to your tent. You're pushing it. Go flirt some more with that recruit you brought to me. He seems more your type."

"You almost sound jealous, sir," I stated walking over to him.

"Why would I be? You have made it very clear that if I want you I can have you,” his tone was harsh.

It felt like he was saying this intentionally to hurt me. And he continued, “You got some kind of thing for your commanding officers? Like men with power? Or is the forbidden angle that does it for you hmm?”

“What? No,” I remarked feeling defensive.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I hit a nerve?” He gave a cruel smile.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What? Speaking the truth? If you don’t like it you know where the way out is. I suggest you use it.”

“This isn’t the truth and you know it,” I declared.

He looked unmoved, narrowing his eyes upon me. I didn’t know what had caused him to return to being so harsh with me, whether it was choice or had I done something. No matter the reason I was tired and in no mood to deal with it so I stormed out and made my way to my own tent. 

Before I took inside I watched the new recruits talking among themselves. Some of the men that had been upon the street were transformed. They had been cleaned up and given new clothes. You would almost mistake them for the regular recruits. You could still see the marks of withdrawal upon them, and their gaunt faces stood out from the others, but they looked different, they were even smiling, eating the rations given as if it was their last meal. At least it was a small reprieve before things changed for them forever. I spotted Warren among them the most animated holding their attention with stories, making them laugh raucously. Even some of the red Templars had taken to listening, smiling to themselves.

He waved and called me over, “Bethan come join us.”

I was about to motion forward when Samson stepped out of his tent. “It’s a long journey to tomorrow I would suggest rest. You will all need it.”

Warren and the new and old recruits all looked a little disappointed to have their fun cut short, they all scurried off to their given tents. Samson’s steely gaze held upon me until I disappeared into my tent. I felt a little annoyed at Samson’s behavior. They needed this calm and enjoyable moment before they saw our camp. How many of them would remain with us when we got back I wondered?


	12. Welcome to the fold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan has to deal with the new recruits discovering what they have gotten themselves into

Given Samson's demeanor yesterday I remained among the recruits as we packed up the camp and moved out. I felt ashamed to see the hope in their eyes, like they felt they were going toward something good. If so, they mistaken and would be in for another cruel shock. The hand life had dealt them would have had them die on the streets. Was this better? I wasn't so sure. 

I held a forced smile each time a new recruit looked to me, which eventually became gritted teeth held in what must have appeared manic grin. But they didn't seem concerned. The most aware recruits seemed weary. I had to ball my fists and dig my nails deep into my palms. I wanted so badly to warn them. I felt myself draw a deep breath as if I was about to say something but we had managed to make the journey faster than I had imagined, it was too late we has made it to the camp.

Their eyes widened, two men attempted to run but Templar horrors stopped them in their tracks. I took between the looming horrors and guided the shaken recruits away. They cast me despairing looks. They appeared to feel deceived or maybe that was my guilty conscience.

"You're not regular Templar's, are you?" Warren raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by the camp and all that dwelt within before him.

"No, we are red Templar's," I confessed.

"Fuck! I wouldn't have imagined you as one of them. I will do what I can to calm the others, as I imagine a refusal now would result in bloodshed," he assured me.

Unable to look him in the eyes, I nodded. I wished that I could be the one assuring them, but I didn’t believe in this cause the way Samson did. I could only try limiting the bloodshed. So I warned the recruits, "this may not be what you expected so I would suggest caution."

"I will not work for these monsters. I thought I was going to be doing good. I am leaving," a recruit called out.

I took in front of him and continued, "I would advise against that. We are doing good here, reshaping this world into something worthwhile where we will be acknowledged as equals, not cast aside and ignored." 

The words were hollow out of my mouth. I was simply parroting Samson’s words but without the passion behind them. I wanted to pull back no longer wanting to be a part of this deception, but I was not given a choice. 

I looked around for reassurance, I noticed Samson walking over to me. He remarked, “You can handle this lot alone. Make sure none escape. We cannot have our location being revealed. Our numbers are depleted as it is.”

I felt a mild panic thinking for a moment I was revealed as a spy, but didn’t seem to be looking to me with suspicion. Before I could question him about leaving me in charge of the unruly recruits he was gone, guiding away the recruits who only seemed to care about getting a dose of lyrium to stop the pain. Little did they know it had just begun. I was already disgusted by the lies, deception and intimidation I had used so far.

"Why the deception?" Warren pressed.

I sighed heavily. It was a difficult question to hear. "Would you have come if you had known all?"

"Probably not. But it is a cruel hand you hold out to those in need." 

His words stung, I visibly flinched. Warren looked to me curiously. I could no longer take his scrutiny. I stood before the recruits, "Please listen to reason. Calmer heads will prevail here. I will hear your concerns." I tried to assure the now panicked eyes upon me.

"You tricked us, batted your eyelashes at us. Fuck, you're worse than a whore, at least they fuck you the good way." The man at the front hissed.

I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and a little out of my depth. No one was helping me. My face was on fire. I was barely containing my emotions. I would have to deal with this hell as best as I could on my own. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. But you are here now. There is no longer a good choice. Join us, gain power and strength beyond all human ability, or take your chances fighting your way through our behemoths." I pointed to the large beastly creatures looming at the perimeter of the camp.

I felt disgusted with myself for saying such things, I truly sounded like a red Templar and I hated it. But if I was to show mercy now so publicly too many questions would be raised. After so long I had to wonder if I was posing as a red Templar or if I actually was one. I was starting to feel I had more in common with Samson than the inquisition soldiers.  
I watched as the reticent recruits were corralled one man attempted to make a break for it. I didn't raise a hand or say a word to stop it. Myself and the other recruits watched as the behemoth spotted him and made short work of him. One harsh swing of its lyrium heavy limb caught him unaware as he thought he had evaded the beast’s sights. It crushed his skull with the weight and speed of solid rock impacting. The only minor mercy is that it was swift. He wasn't able to cry out before he was no more. More blood upon my hands…they would never be clean again. 

I shouldn't have been taken aback that Samson had left me to suffer alone but I had on some level hoped he would help me. I was a fool. I was truly beginning to hate what I had to do and become to hold to my cover here. And Samson’s change in temperament toward me didn’t help me feel more at ease.

By the time the recruits had been given their first dose of red lyrium, half of them didn't survive it. I was exhausted. My conscience weighed heavily upon me as I buried more innocents. As I buried these poor souls, I could no longer contain my emotions. I wept but I did so silently just in case anyone should hear me. Sitting upon the ground looking at the fresh graves, I dropped my head upon my knees and despaired.

When it came time to get my own lyrium dose, I wanted to avoid it but the craving would not be ignored, it never could be. The last person I wanted to see right now was Samson. I was still covered in the blood and dirt of those I had placed in graves - those who we had killed today. Samson had left me to stammer through veiled threats and feigned pride for the Order. The only thing that had given my words any weight was the untimely death of that recruit who had attempted escape. If that horrific sight had not been witnessed there may have been greater bloodshed.

I stepped to the general's tent, hoping to be as swift as possible. My muscles ached, my eyes burned, and I was a little unsure of who I was anymore. The lyrium rushing through my veins gave me temporary relief until Samson remarked, "you did well today."

His affirmation was the last thing I wanted to hear, and it sparked a rage within me. "How can you be okay with this?" I spat.

"It is necessary. The inquisition has blackened our name and thinned our numbers of late. So other methods must be employed." He didn't seem as sure of himself when his glare wavered.

"I thought you wanted respect!” I cried, “this hardly engenders trust now, does it?!”

"Oh, and what in your infinite wisdom should we do? You don't have any answers, do you, sweetheart? Leave the decisions to your commanding officer." He waved his hand dismissively, I ignored it.

"You think I can't see beyond that?" I pressed my hands to his desk, forcing him to look at me.

"So what? You think I am a sweet guy? Really? Well, now you’re dreaming, sweetheart." He laughed.

"No but I think you suffered more than anyone realizes, and that changed you."

"That's enough!"

"I hit upon the truth?" I smiled slyly. I was shaking but I was doing my best to hide it. I didn't want him to know he could intimidate me.

"Get out! Now. That's a fucking order."

The fury in his eyes told me I had hit a nerve, I had intended to hurt him as I was infuriated by his cruel words to me. I felt a little shaky after confronting him but I had to say something as this was getting difficult for me to remain here.

I felt too furious to return to my own tent, so I went outside cruise's tent. I don't know what I hoped to gain from seeing him especially in his current state. But I stepped inside wearily. He looked to me the moment I entered, the horror that Cruise had become made him difficult to approach. I wondered if he still recognized me. Would he be offended by an unintended flinch? I cautiously walked further in and I sat on what must have once been his cot, I was surprised to see it in one piece. 

"Hey. I kind of feel a little foolish being here. I don't know if you can understand me. I have learned a few new things about you. I already knew you to be a good man but the more I know the more it pains me to see you this way."

I looked over at him his eyes were upon me, but I couldn't read any emotion. I grew annoyed at myself and declared, "Why am I here? Do you even understand me?"

The horror stood and walked toward me, grunted and placed a clawed hand over mine. I was holding my breath, expecting some kind of attack, but he just stood there. Was this a human gesture or was I misreading this? I took a shaky hand and placed it over his. He grunted and then stepped back. His eyes now looked to a dark corner of his tent. I felt conflicted. Was he in pain? It was getting harder to tell as his breathing was constantly labored so I could only assume so. I took to the healing tent to grab a vial. My heart lurched when I walked in to find Lucy holding to a cot, her teeth gritted. Oh, maker, no I wasn't ready for her to become a horror. She pulled up when I walked over to her.

"Bethan," she sobbed. She pulled up her sleeve revealing the reddened veins of the corruption had taken over, and there were the beginnings of lyrium growths pushing through her skin.

"Fuck." I held in place staring for a moment, useless and helplessly unable to move.

I finally took to action. I hated seeing her in pain so I grabbed vials and a poultice. Her fear was harder to take as there was nothing I could say to allay them, we knew where this led. I was as careful as I could be with the poultices around the growths.

"Bethan, I am afraid. I don't want to become one of those things. I thought I could handle this but I can't," Lucy yelped.

"You're strong, Lucy."

"No, I am not. When my hands started shaking I thought nothing of it. I hid that for as long as possible. But I can't hunt so I can only think of what is to become of me and I am terrified," she wailed.

I pulled her into my arms. She shook with the force of her sobs. I held her tightly desperately trying to think of words of comfort, but what could I say? We were all becoming monsters.


	13. Caring for a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan and Wystan do what they can to aid Lucy but it is difficult for all involved

At first, Lucy was a little shaky but as the days became weeks she became steadily worse in body and mind. It had been only been a month but to me it felt like a lifetime. I could only assume Lucy and Wystan felt the same. Lucy's pain was severe at times, and her mind was fracturing under a growing madness. We were slowly losing her. It was frightening to see her sliding away. At times we would find her rigid and uncommunicative, or her words would be nonsensical, it was difficult to understand where she was, but we wouldn't leave her there. We continued to no avail to reach her, we couldn't give up on her, as we knew wouldn't give up on us. Lucy was often my one and only focus, staying up all night with her when the pain was too much, attempting to comfort her when the fear threatened to overwhelm her. I was exhausted, I barely slept, rarely took the time to eat or drink as my mind was consumed by this horror show playing out before my eyes.

Wystan did what he could but is seemed at times he was as clueless as me despite being here longer than I. Maybe it was because Lucy was more than a fellow soldier. At times Wystan appeared to look terrified as he clung to Lucy telling her it would be ok. I wondered if he was trying to reassure himself also. I could see it was wearing upon him as he grew weary and sluggish. This seemed to serve as a reminder that this was to be a fate he would share.

Samson had tried to find a role suited to Lucy during her becoming. She had attempted to be my assistant in the healing tent but she needed more care than most that came to us for aid. The uncontrollable shaking had led to her dropping so many of my healing potions that we ran out. It became necessary for me to forage in the forest for more ingredients, so I took Lucy with me, hoping leaving the camp and wondering the forest may ease her mind but somehow in the forest she became more dazed, and she kept wondering off. I was horrified to turn from picking elfroot to find her missing. I looked around manically, crying out her name to only be met with silence. I was beginning to panic when luck led me to her. I heard a nug squeal in what I can only guess was alarm. I took to where I had heard the squeak emanated from and it was there I found Lucy sobbing, slumped against a tree. I was relieved to find her, but not in this state. This place used to her escape when she could hunt, but now there was no escape for her. “Bethan, I am freak. Even animals can see it,” she exclaimed.

“No you’re not,” I tried to assure her, but it was beginning to sound hollow after being repeated daily.

I comforted her as best as I could. When we had returned to camp that day it had become clear she had no role until she turned into one of the horrors, as her tremoring hands and lapses made all roles beyond her.

So I took upon myself to speak to Samson upon her behalf, hoping to give her time away from her duties, as there were too many triggers that led her into blind panic. I would have brought her with me but I felt she was going through enough.

“General, may I speak with you?”

He glanced up at me through hooded eyes; he rubbed his temples as he remarked, “What is it?”

“I think Lucy needs time…away from her duties.” I grimaced as I expected a tirade of abuse for be so presumptuous.

But he just strained to focus upon me and sighed heavily, “Fine.”

“Really?” I exclaimed unintentionally. I was just taken back.

“Well, she is doing more harm than good to our cause. But she will soon be a true solider.”

True solider those words seemed to linger in my mind, I wanted to question him but he looked as exhausted as I felt. So I let it pass by as I had gotten what I wanted, and there was no sense in pushing him or so I told myself. Why did I even still care?

My daily routine changed dramatically, as had the people on my mind. Training and healing often fell to the wayside, I had been reprimanded several times for neglecting my duties but I barely heard a word of it as my mind was always on Lucy.

I was the only one who had yet to succumb to the corruption. I was deep in the throes of addiction but it had yet to poison me. My genes were stronger than I realized. I had not thought I would last so long. All this talk of the corruption, however, shook me and forcing me to check my own reflection in the nearby river for fear to it was creeping up upon me. I could have picked any reflective surface but I chose the one that allowed me to escape the tent for a time. Wystan was with Lucy, and I would not be long. Sat at the river’s edge and I stared long and hard at my reflection, pulling back my eyelids fearing there would be poisoned veins hidden from my sight in the still waters, but I saw nothing. The bloodshot state of my eyes shocked me for a moment, but I soon recalled with relief that this had a natural cause, lack of sleep. Assured that my change wasn’t impending was a small comfort as I walked back from the river to our tent wondering what I would find this time.

I stepped inside and found Lucy pacing and Wystan just looking on, he seemed as if he was helpless to aid her as if he wanted to comfort her, but nothing we had said so far had set her at ease, and we understood why but I hated to see her this way.

"Lucy can you hold still for a moment," I pleaded.

She stopped dead turning to look at me will sad and dulled eyes. "Why? What good will that do me?"

"What good will this endless pacing do?" I returned.

"It keeps my mind off my fate. I don't want to think of it," she stated hastily as she returned to her pacing. At least she was aware today, a small mercy for me not her.

"Lucy." I tried again with a tentative voice but rigid body language as I pulled in front of her hoping to stop her, but she rounded me and continued.

I turned to Wystan, who looked to me with equal desperation, we just weren't reaching her. I stepped aside and took to Wystan's side. And exclaimed, "I still can't believe how sudden this was."

His eye contact became evasive. I felt suspicion grow within me. I leaned forward to catch his eyes. "What?"

"It wasn't sudden..." he trailed off, his eyes looking forward.

I followed the line of his sight to find Lucy standing with a stern expression on her face, her eyes burning into him. She said nothing but began to pace as he held his silence. "What in the Maker's name is going on here?" I cried, wanting answers.

I gasped as the realization dawned upon me. She had been hiding it from us, or me. I wondered if Lieutenant Cruise had done the same, so maybe his change was not so sudden either. How could I have missed it? What kind of friend was I? "You hid it from me?" I cried feeling a little wounded by to me what seemed like a lack of trust.

"Not just you," Wystan remarked breaking his silence.

Wystan and I shared a saddened empathic look. I wondered if it was fear or lack of trust that held her silence. "Why did you not trust us with this?" I questioned as I turned to Lucy who was still pacing at speed.

She rambled, "I trust you. I didn't want either of you to know. To see me like this."

"Lucy, the pain you must have been in. I could have done something."

"There is nothing you can do,” she remarked harshly and returned to her pacing.

I looked to Wystan. "You must have seen this before, is there nothing we can do?" I pressed hoping for answers.

"I have seen glimpses. You would be surprised how many changed so fast. This is different," he stated with a broken voice, his eyes misting over.

I took his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "You are not alone, my friend." I then looked to Lucy and called over, "Neither of you are alone," I tried to assure her as much as myself.

I often felt isolated, and alone. Wystan and I were often at a loss as to what we could do for her.

We made our way to training. We were running late as usual. The punishment for lateness was not as it had been with Cruise, I learnt nothing from it and I no longer felt inspired, not that I should have in the first place. The man now in his place would just shout until the veins bulged in his neck. This may have been effective if I could focus upon a single word he was saying. I drifted in and out, and didn’t care that it may seem disrespectful. He was no Cruise. He did not deserve nor command my respect. He wanted me to fear him as he loomed over me screaming in my face but he failed to intimidate me as I didn’t care about anything but Lucy’s well-being. I could not stand to watch him berate Wystan, I caught Wystan’s eye and attempted to step forward, but he shook his head. I had to force myself to look away lest I feel compelled to run to his aid.

We trudged to arm ourselves. The shield now felt heavy. I didn't take time with my selection I just took what was before me, and dragged myself back out to the field. The whole thing felt surreal like I was dreaming. I felt distant but I could still manage to focus when it was necessary though it was becoming increasingly difficult.  
I felt for Wystan as when we fell in line he looked so exhausted, and this had often made him easy for any soldier to knock to ground in previous training sessions. I had ignored orders of our new lieutenant in the past and ran to Wystan's aid when he was left reeling, as I was not aware of much but I always kept an eye upon Wystan.

We were rarely paired together in training as we would so dazed from lack of sleep so we would miss what was going on around us. Today was no different, I was startled by the appearance of another Templar standing before me, but I did not show it. I merely nodded at the man before me, not caring to learn his name, as what was the point?  
I barely registered the words, "Firsts attack."

I instinctively planted my feet and held up against the shield bash that crashed with great force into me, resounding pain shook up my strained arm, but I managed to hold firm. I turned to look for Wystan to find him again reeling upon the ground. I dropped my shield to ground as it would just slow me down and rushed to his side.

"Recruit return to your post!" The lieutenant shouted.

"I will not leave a fellow Templar behind," I remarked defiantly after aiding a dazed Wystan to his feet.

I was just as exhausted but it was affected me differently. My memory began to fail me. I forgot names and tasks until prompted.

I spotted the new lieutenant was glaring at me as I returned to my training partner, "If you cannot show me the respect I deserve, I will have to speak to the general," he shouted.

This remark didn't shake me, as I didn't care about what Samson would say. I was only concerned for Lucy. I had already been reprimanded several times I didn't recall a word of it, I didn't care for the effect this was having upon Samson.

Training passed in a blur, and I was glad when it was over, as were my pained muscles.

I was slow returning to our tent. I walked in to find Lucy sitting upon her cot staring aimlessly into the distance, her body rigid. She did not look to me when I entered, I feared how dark her thoughts were to make her so unaware of her surroundings. I walked over slowly as not to startle her. "Lucy," I whispered.

She barely moved her head. Her eyes looked almost lifeless as they tracked over to me, and then back to the void. I took to her side and sat down beside her. Taking her hand in mine, just so on some level, she would know I was there. We sat in silence. The silence had often faded on previous days when the pain grew unbearable, and then came the agonized screams and fearful words she would utter in a moment of awareness and clarity when she would grip my hand in a vice-like grip and strain, "I don't want to be a monster."

I was wary of it happening again today, and sadly it did, I felt Lucy's nails cut into my skin as she held to my hand in a blind panic, refusing to let go and I couldn't bring myself to ask it of her. "Don't let me become one of those things, please don't."

Tears flowed freely from my eyes as her pained exclamation always broke my heart, as what could I say? I couldn't stop this change. Lucy's eyes would take on a strange ethereal red glow when she fell to her panic, despite it being difficult to see her this way it was good to see her eyes focusing on me. It made me feel that she was here with me but for how long?

Her skin was taking on a more sickly pallor of late, and her that ethereal glow seemed like it might be becoming permanent. "Would you take a healing potion for me? It will take the edge off the pain." It was all I could promise, the pain never stopped, not anymore.

I would aid her in taking it as her hands were shaky. I placed in upon her trembling lip and poured it down her throat. I had learned that no matter how strong I made the potion it still didn't do enough, sometimes it only added to her nausea. I leaned my head upon Lucy's shoulder, holding her hand so if the pain should be too much I would know, as she would still try to hide it, but her body would betray her.

I jolted up. I must have dozed off through pure exhaustion. I looked over to Lucy, Wystan was watching over her. Wystan must have put me in my own cot. I pulled up slowly, wiping at my blurry eyes. I walked over. I sighed heavily as I saw that glazed looked in her eyes. It was like we had lost her already. This I could only guess must have been the only way she could cope with what she was becoming, by switching off and disconnecting from the world around her. How was this a better way? I found it difficult to contain my fury at times. When I had received my lyrium doses I wanted to ring Samson's neck. This was his doing. I wouldn't look at him. I would just take my lyrium and leave.  
I stepped outside our tent to breathe. The atmosphere in there was oppressive. I took a deep breath, exhaling until I felt weak and deflated. The sun burned my tired dry eyes.

"Bethan?" I heard Warren call.

Warren had been a great help to us, whether it be watching over Lucy or getting us food, though I felt undeserving of all the kindness he had shown us. I looked over to him, he was slowly approaching. He stopped short and remarked, "You don't look too good, Bethan."

"I am fine. I am not the one in pain," I strained.

"I will gladly watch over Lucy. When was the last time you ate something?" He tried to reason.

Barley noting his words, I remarked, "I can't do that," I was feeling desperate and fearful for Lucy. I didn't know what to do and I did not want to leave her.

"What use are you going to be to her if you collapse?" Warren pressed me.

"I have to help her," I stressed in a panicked voice.

"I am capable of caring for her in your short absence. Please, you have trusted me before."

My stomach grumbled painfully, making me feel the true weight of my weariness. I could also feel the craving gnawing at me, so I realized that I would have to go and get my lyrium dose. I nodded in acceptance of Warren's kind offer. I would be as swift as I could be.

I would have run to the general's tent but my lack of energy only afforded me a slow walk. I stepped in hoping that Samson was busy and that it was someone else but as luck would have it Samson was sitting there slumped in his chair. He looked almost human, his shoulders were tense and he appeared lost in thought. His eyes were not kind when they locked upon me. I did not flinch. He placed the lyrium before me. I did not snatch it as I had done on previous visits, I found myself looking upon it wearily, not wanting to reach out for it. The need for it was strong, the thirst never weakened, but a fear was edging from the recess of my mind holding back the desire to feed the addiction. I could only see Lucy's broken expression and hear her desperate pleas.

"Would you hurry it along I have work to do," He warned me.

My hand was shaking as I took the vials, I still did not drink them. "What are doing?" he exclaimed in annoyance as I continued to linger.

I must have been truly desperate as I found myself pleading, "Can you talk to her?"

"Talk to who?"

"Lucy, I am worried for her." I felt truly desperate and willing to try anything to bring her back or give her peace of mind if there was any to be had.

"How would that help?" he grumbled.

"I don't know," I confessed.

"You must be desperate to ask me for help," he exclaimed his stern expression beginning to soften.

"I am.” I admitted with a sigh, “I don't know what to do.”

"I cannot make any promises," he warned.

"If you could try I would be grateful. And please, be kind," I pleaded.

"Again I can promise you nothing. But you are encouraging me by your silence. Bethan, you have not been in the healing tent for some time now, I would suggest you would more likely sway me by doing your assigned duties. You are no babysitter. Now hurry up and will see if I find time to get to your…friend."  
I would have argued had I the strength too but I did not so I nodded, still drinking the lyrium with some hesitation. The lyrium’s calming effect was short lived. I felt a fool stepping out of his tent, what good did I really think Samson could do or would do?

I found it difficult to continue toward the healing tent, I worried for Lucy and Wystan. I stepped inside feeling as if I was in foreign territory, this sanctuary this escape had become a chore and a burden. It made me weary to see what was next for Lucy as I treated those in various points of the change to Templar horrors. As the last beast left or was aided out, I dropped into the chair, feeling a little dizzy.

I felt a hand upon my shoulder. I turned swiftly to see Warren with food in hand. I eyed it as I was ravenous but too weak to snatch it from him. "Who is watching Lucy?" I exclaimed.

"Wystan is with her," he assured me.

"Why are you being kind to me? I do not deserve it. I lied to you and tricked you, and now you're bound to this horrible fate."

"I am no fool. Your general's reputation and appearance precede him. I knew what and who you were," he confessed.

"Why join us then?" I exclaimed feeling confused, I had thought him unaware, but I guess I was wrong.

"I have my reasons," He remarked curtly.

I tried pressing him but he was set upon keeping his reasons secret. I finally gave up and took the food and the water he had set behind me. It was psychically painful to eat and drink, but it took the edge off the ravenous hunger. Before leaving he remarked, "Should you need a break you know I will always help if I can. Or should you need to sleep away from Lucy my cot is yours."

It was a gallant offer and I was undeserving of it but he did not give me time to question him, and I had work to do. I made potions and placed as many as I could in my pockets before leaving the healing tent.

I walked to our tent stepping inside to find Lucy staring at me with an eyebrow raised quizzically. This was more alike the old Lucy, but I didn't want to hope, it was too painful to hope. "What?" I pressed.

"I assume that visit from Samson was you’re doing," she remarked seeming amused.

"He came?" I exclaimed feeling taken back. I had thought he would dismiss my concerns.

"Yes, he did."

"Did it help any?" I pressed, hoping Samson had been kind.

"It did, gave me a little clarity."

"Thank the maker," I exclaimed in relief.

Lucy laughed, she actually laughed-I feared I wouldn’t hear that sound again. "You know he only did it for you."

Wystan had been silent until he sighed heavily and stated, "Don't encourage her. I don't want to lose my friend to him. It's bad enough I am losing you."

Wystan had never said much to me in regard to me and Samson so it was shocking to hear him sound so set against it, and it was saddening to hear him so broken up. But I guess it was only a matter of time before all of his pain began to run forth. All of us had said nothing of our suffering until now.

"Wystan this is difficult for us all. I may be in pain but I can see you and hear you please let me enjoy it. Do you mind if we have the tent tonight?" Lucy looked at me with pleading eyes, dulled but her own.

I wanted to spend time with Lucy, as she was but I couldn't begrudge them this. I sighed heavily, "Fine."

But I couldn't leave without embracing her. I pulled her close thankful the shards were limited to her outer forearms for the time being. I held her tight for some time before whispering, "I have missed you. I want you to know I love you and will do no matter your form."

I am not sure if my words were of comfort to her, but it helped me to be able to finally say some of what I had been holding back. I released her and she smiled, "I had never thought I would find a friend here, that anyone would think I had any worth. But I did and I thank the Maker for that," she strained in a voice heavy with emotion.

I didn't know if it was her situation or something she had not revealed but I hadn't heard her speak of the Maker with such reverence. I was still shaky with my belief. I had been praying a lot for Lucy but each prayer was pre-empted by disbelief. 'I don't know if you're there, if you're listening or if you even care...'

I backed out of the tent slowly and wondered what to do with myself. Without looking after Lucy I felt at a loss with what to do. Maybe Lucy’s strange thinking was starting to make sense in my tierd mind as I began to think that maybe I should go and thank Samson. Whether it would be welcome or not was another question. I walked slowly to his tent on some level hoping he wasn't there as I was liable to make a fool of myself as I often seemed to with him. I stepped inside and found him on his feet about to leave. "What is it?"

I felt a rush of emotion, which led to foolish action. I kissed Samson on the cheek swiftly.

His eyes narrowed. “What was that for?"

"I wanted to thank you for your help. You didn't have to do anything and..." I trailed off not sure if I should continue.

"She is one of my recruits you brought a concern to me, it was nothing." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Well, it wasn't nothing to her...or me."

"I have work to do. Are we done here?" he pressed seeming like he was feeling awkward. I tried to hide my smile as he followed me out. I realized I didn't quite know where to go, so stopped and lingered. I thought Samson had rushed off so I was startled to hear him exclaim, "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, sir. Am I in your way?"

"If you linger, you will be," he remarked in annoyance.

"I just need to get my bearings, I will be fine."

"What? Are you lost?" He laughed.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he continued to laugh, "No, I need to stay in a different tent..."

I didn't know how to explain why and I shouldn't have said anything but the embarrassment made me feel the need to justify my behavior.

His brow furrowed. "And why is that?"

"I need to sleep before I keel over," I remarked. I hoped because there was an element of truth he would believe it.

"I am sure you can find somewhere," he remarked hastily.

"You're right," I exclaimed recalling Warren’s earlier offer. "I know who I can ask. Where is Warren's tent?" I asked realizing I had no idea where it was.

"Warren?" He echoed, his expression turned a little sour.

My eyes widened when I understood how that must have sounded. "It is nothing untoward I assure you."

"Good-as the rules do apply to you too. Don't forget that," he warned before storming away.

Leaving me feeling once again foolish and I realized he hadn't told me where Warren's tent was, so I was left to wander aimlessly. It took me a while but I found him standing just outside of a tent I could only assume was his. His arms were folded tightly against his chest and his expression wasn't welcoming.

"Is everything ok?" I inquired.

He seemed to snap out of a daze. "Yes, it was nothing. I have just been reminded in a less than friendly manner about the policy on fraternization."

He beckoned me with his hand to follow him inside as I exclaimed, "What?"

I followed and took a seat upon his cot. He stood in front of me, "I think I can safely say I was corrected in my assumption."

"What assumption?" I pressed still feeling a little confused.

"Our General has his eye on you. He more or less threatened me.'"

My eyes widened. I couldn't help my reaction I burst out laughing despite knowing I should be annoyed by it. "He did not," I stated breathlessly as I continued to laugh.

"Well, not exactly, but that was the intended meaning, trust me."

I began catching my breath. "I am sorry, that's not funny at all. Not sure why I laughed about that."

"You're sleep deprived, possibly a little delirious, so I will forgive you. Besides I was not intimidated."

I didn't want to think about anything, least of all Samson, that was a complicated mess. "I feel a little cruel taking your cot from you."

"It is not a problem. I took one from a Templar who had no need for it."

"No need for it?"

"He has become whatever you call those beastly hulking things."

"Hey, they aren't things. They are still people just a little harder to reach. I swear Cruise can still understand me," I argued.

"Are you sure that isn't just wishful thinking because of your friend?" He added tentatively.

"No. I can't be sure but I think Cruise acknowledged me. I swore there was recognition in his eyes."

"Hold on to that, it is better than the alternative, I guess."

"Not much of an assurance," I sighed.

"Oh, do you want me to lie?"

"No, but nothing is certain."

"So you're finding comfort in not knowing?"

"I don't know anymore. It's more about survival."

Warren moved a little closer. "So how are you surviving this day?"

"I am making it up as I go," I confessed feeling a little bit nervous as Warren began to draw closer still. Sitting in upon the cot gave me no room to back away. He was standing right in front me now

His hands were resting on my knees. “Maybe I can help?"

"How do you plan to do that?" I stammered as I looked up at him.

"I could make you feel things beyond pain, and suffering," he purred as he pushed my legs apart and pulled himself between my legs. He leant in closer.

"That is tempting, but I don't think I want you losing your hands," I joked to hide my nerves as I was caught in his intense gaze.

"No one would need to know," He continued brushing my hair from my shoulder with a feathery light touch upon my skin.

"I can't," I stammered.

"Holding out for the General?" He teased not backing away.

"Cute, but you know the rules."

"First of all that was not a no, and secondly are you not here because your friends are breaking that very rule. I see no harm in following their lead unless there is someone else?"

He just wouldn't drop it.

"There is someone but I can't tell you who," I remarked as he began to lean toward me.

He stopped, and added, "I think I can guess who. You have strange taste, my dear."

I just laughed at his remark as it was certainly true. I tried to not think of Cullen or Samson as I felt confused about my feelings for both of them. I could still hope for death.

Warren was a gentleman, he back off and when he settled upon the second cot I pressed him about his time with the hero of Ferelden.

"How did you meet the hero of Ferelden?" I pressed curiously.

"Would you believe it was during a bar fight." He laughed to himself.

"A bar fight? What was it over?" I inquired wanting to know the details so I could try and picture it for myself.

"Some of Loghain's lackeys were trying to spout rhetoric. Loghain's betrayed his king plain and simple. I knew the man. He was an ass. So I was glad to join the Fray. After which I introduced myself and the Hero graciously offered me a place in her group. She gave me the second chance I never thought I would ever get. It was a shame that she died, she was a good woman. You would have liked her."

"I am sure I would," I remarked lost in wondering what she was like. I wanted to ask more about it but he looked saddened enough by the memory. I didn't want to cause any further suffering.

Warren caught me off guard when he added, "You are very strange indeed, my dear. You are a red Templar and yet you seem captivated by heroes rather than villains. And your compassion for your friend speaks of a good heart, not a darkened one.

I had no idea how to respond, so I merely remarked, "mmm" feigning a sleepy tone.

The forced yawn that followed led into a real one from which I began to feel the depth of my exhaustion. It did not take long for sleep to take me.


	14. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan finds her world is once again changing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH SUICIDE. IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ ON.

I pulled up swiftly. It took some time to realise why I was not in my own tent. I looked over at Warren in his own cot who seemed to be sleeping rather peacefully. I did not wish to wake him, so I pulled up and snuck out as quietly as possible. The dawn painted the world in a gentle hue, shame I couldn't appreciate the beauty of it, it was as if the joy of the moment was lost under the weight of my conscience. I had done so many terrible things as my nightmares would often recount for me, adding to the shame growing within me. I began to return to our tent, hoping I wouldn't be disturbing Wystan and Lucy. When I reached the tent and dropped my voice to what I hoped was an audible whisper, "Are you decent?"

Only silence answered my call. I cautiously ventured in. I looked around to find that I couldn't see anyone. A cot was overturned in the corner of the tent. As I walked over to investigate, I saw someone lying on the ground. It was Lucy and she wasn't moving. I became terrified that she had become a beast last night, I dragged the cot away so I could get to her and pulled closer. What was sticking to my boots? I looked down and I gasped. It was blood. The ground was soaked with it. I dropped to my knees, not caring for the dampness rising around my knees as I was consumed by only by s growing sense of alarm. I took a shaky hand to her shoulder, she was cold. I was now terrified to pull her toward me. I did not want this sinking feeling to have a reason. I rolled her toward me and found her lifeless eyes were all that stared back. She was so cold, this damn red lyrium. It felt so strange like one of my many nightmares. Maybe I would truly awake and breathe a sigh of relief. This horrific image did not fade, I did not wake up. I pulled her into my arms, what comfort could I give now? She was gone. It didn't sink in until I looked down at her and found that her wrists were cut open. The lyrium had not torn her apart, she had torn herself apart. I had known she feared to become a beast but had I known the depths of her terror I wouldn't have left her. If I had been here I could have done something, but I wasn't here. I had failed her. I felt heartbroken and helpless holding her limp body in my desperate embrace. I clung to her tightly as the tears flowed.

I felt a distance from the world around me, all felt strange. I continued in the vain desperate hope that this was all a nightmare, "Wake up," I whimpered. My voice sounded muffled.

When I found I could not wake up from this nightmare, I heard a disembodied cry ring out. I was barely aware that the cry was my own until a vague burning in my throat made me realize it was. I felt a weight taken from my arms and could hear an incessant mumbling before me. I looked down to find Lucy gone. I panicked and cast my eyes up to see Wystan. I struggled to focus on him, the image before me clearer as I blinked away the unspent tears burning my eyes. I could now see his expression was that of a destroyed man, and that one of his eyes was edged by bruising. He cradled Lucy close to him, pleading with her. "Wake up."

His voice came to my dulled senses as a whisper. I did not know what to say to him, as the shock was making it so difficult to believe it to be real. I felt the warmth of another envelop me, I did not resist it. I pressed my head to a breastplate and did not move until I was motioned to so. I heard my name whispered, "Bethan."

The volume seemed to flood back like the shock was wearing off and the cold reality was dawning upon me. I looked up and felt a sense of confusion upon seeing an unknown Templar looking down upon me. He must have walked in when we were dazed, our senses that dulled.

“Bethan, you need to talk to Wystan. We need to take Lucy away, but he won't part with her."

I looked to Wystan clinging tightly to her, rocking back and forth. How could I ask him to let her go? I could not believe that she was gone. I crawled over to where Wystan was cradling Lucy to himself. I embraced them both, feeling Lucy slowly being edged away from us by this unknown Templar. This left Wystan lost, looking down at his hands until I pulled my arms around him and held to him tightly. I still had no words, this was all the comfort I could give. His embrace was so tight around me it was hard to breathe, but I said nothing. I let him weep, while his head pressed to my shoulder. I wept with him until my eyes were blurry. I took a deep breath as his grip loosened about me and he slumped back, his sad eyes fixed upon me. "This is my fault," he strained.

"What would make you say such a thing?" I choked through my tears.

"She said she felt a rush and couldn't control it, she was inconsolable. She kept begging me to get out, telling me she needed space. I kept telling her it was ok and not to worry but she wouldn't listen. I walked around camp trying not to over think it. She wanted her space. I had to respect it. But I shouldn't have left her, I saw she was torn up by this and I left. If I had stayed she would still be with us now."

"Wystan, it's not your fault. I did not see how deep her pain ran." I sighed heavily, my chest aching with the weight of it.

"It is. I tried to convince her it would all be okay. It was an illusion, I loved her but it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough," he cried.

I reached out to him but he pulled his shoulder away with what seemed to be an angry shrug.

“Where were you?" he hissed in what seemed like an accusatory fashion.

It stung to hear what sounded like blame. I blamed myself, so many what if's were spinning around my head I could barely keep track of them. But I felt the weight of them. "I thought I was helping to give you time together," I cried.

I needed comfort. I needed something to stop this agony but as Wystan held me at a distance in what I could only assume was anger. I felt so alone, my eyes dropped to ground any sight was better than his accusing eyes. I began gasping for air as the walls felt like they were closing in. I sobbed through my gasps, fearing Wystan was right and that I could have saved her. I had failed her. I looked back up to see Wystan was gone. I was alone. I lay upon the cold ground, curling into myself. Everything hurt, maybe for once sleep would hold solace. Surely the fear was better than this soul crushing pain.

I woke to find feet in front of me. “Bethan are you able to stand?," I heard a voice insist.

I would not listen to it. It had no idea how the reality flooding back felt. My heart ached, everything ached. I felt myself being dragged to my feet, The last person I wanted to be faced with in a moment like this was Samson. I felt angry as I looked upon him. How was this a better way? But the energy for the rage did not come. I was barely able to stand without Samons’s hands supporting me. He pulled me into his arms and held me there for some time. I felt nothing but numb. He released me and led me to my cot, and aided me to sit down.

"You will forgive me if I am in no mood for your usual push and pull," I remarked upon looking upon Samson again.

"What? You think that is why I am here?" He exclaimed as if taken back.

"Why are you here?" I pressed with a creeping sense of annoyance

"I have spoken to Wystan. You found her. That must have been a shock. It's not like in battle, then you expect to see such horrors. But here such things can be jarring to even the toughest solider and given how close you three were I wanted to see how you are handling this."

I was confused by what sounded like a genuine expression of concern. I looked into his eyes and it seemed to confirm sympathy or pity I wasn't sure which.

"I am not. It feels like one of my nightmares but I can't wake up." My voice wavered as fresh tears flowed. "Sometimes I want to wake up other times I don't."

Samson slowly pulled me back into his arms and just let me cry. I feared my tears wouldn't stop now they had started. But I fell to silence, just holding to him. He remarked, "I have sadly witnessed such ends in my time in Kirkwall."

It felt strange to be talking to him while in his embrace. "As a Templar?" I asked.

"No, in the time after."

"I am sorry, Samson."

"It feels like it was a lifetime ago. I will do what I can to help...as your general it is my job."

"As my general?" I reflected in annoyance.

"Yes. Don't forget my role here," he pressed.

I pulled away a little to glare up at him, "No, not that you would allow it. I appreciate your understanding but I need a friend, not a general. So I would like to be left alone if you don't mind."

I expected him to release me and walk away but he held in place and kept his eyes locked on mine, "You know my feelings for you are a little more than..." he paused mid-sentence and slowly untangled himself from my arms and began a new. "I will assign you a new tent. As I assume you do not want to stay here."

"Yes...you are right. Thank you, sir."

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Forgive me for how this sounds but I keep expecting you to turn on me."

"Turn on you?” He seemed confused again. “Is that what you think I have been doing?"

  
"It is how it feels at times."

  
He looked at me through narrowed eyes, but I couldn't attend to his feelings my mind was overwhelmed by grief. I stood behind Samson as he turned away, as he began to leave he bade me to follow him. I cautiously followed after him and when I paused in my new tent, the empty expanse felt strange.

  
I turned to Samson and pressed, "Can we have a small burial for her?"

  
"I can't see that being a problem. So long as it doesn't happen during normal duty hours. Who will be attending?"

"Myself and Wystan."

"I would like to pay my respects if it is ok. She was still one of my soldiers and it is sad to lose anyone under your command."

"Thank you, sir."

"Stop looking at me like that. I am being sincere," he grumbled before adding, “I have people to move about and things to reschedule due to sadly being three soldiers down. If you can help in the healing tent I would be grateful but I can’t imagine you and Wystan being much use after such a shock. So do what you can and know my door is always open. My soldiers should be able to bring issues to me.”

With that said he left me alone as I had requested but it felt strange to be alone and left to my darkened thoughts and grief. Overwhelmed, I took to my new cot and drifted in and out of consciousness.

I awoke to hear a voice call to me. I slowly looked to where it had come from. My eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness, but even then I could not make out who it was. So I waited for them to speak again waited and in the silence that followed I wondered if I had been hearing things, or was I still dreaming? I couldn't be, my dreams rarely began as such. "Bethan, I am sorry." Wystan lamented, then continued in a hushed but pained voice, "I was looking for someone to blame, it's killing me that she is gone."

I reached out to Wystan who seemed to be reluctant to draw closer. I took his hand. He reluctantly drew closer, pulling free of the shadows and stepping into my new tent.

“It's killing me too," I confessed.

The rest of the night followed restlessly. I could not find peace, my own mind was my worst enemy and Wystan's pained laments only left me haunted by memories of Lucy. I found no comfort but the void was less vast with Wystan at my side. His connection to Lucy, however, kept the pain at the surface.

In the midst of the night when Wystan dozed for a precious few moments beside me, I found myself asking her 'why?' despite knowing she was not there. I found no comfort trapped in this tent, knowing that I had failed my friend.

I pulled up feeling a little dizzy. Wystan managed to catch me as I stumbled. We held to each other and struggled with our own guilt. We had talked about blame but it seemed that we clung to it as if it gave us some belief that if only we could have done something, it was easier than feeling so helpless.

Arranging a burial for Lucy was a nightmare. It still felt so surreal hearing Wystan speak of how she would prefer to be taken by the flame, returned to the Maker. She was Andrastain. I had not known her faith was so strong she had not spoken of it. I sighed heavily fearing there was no maker for her to return to. I did not confide my lack of faith in Wystan as it was the last thing he needed to hear, he needed to believe she was going somewhere better. Anywhere was better than this place.

I was sent to gather the kindling and wood for the pyre. The idea of burning what remained of my friend turned my stomach, but if it was her wish, I had no right to no uphold it. Walking the woods in the cold light of day only reminded me I was alone. The chill seemed excessive as it coursed through me cutting to my core. I had not felt the cold so keenly before. I shivered as gathered up branches and smaller twigs. I could barely keep them in my arms as my arms tremored. I found with each new journey back out to gain more wood for the pyre, the wood became heavier in my arms until it was difficult to hold. My muscles strained under their weight. My body and mind seemed to both be failing me. As I dropped the last of it to the ground, I could swear I saw Lucy. And without a second thought, I followed after the spectre into the forest and found it empty. I even found myself foolishly calling out her name, "Lucy?"

As if she was just lost in the forest, not dead, I leant forward, placing my hand against a tree trying to catch my breath. My throat ached, my eyes burned. My hand became a fist and I found myself taking both tightly balled up hands to the bark of the tree in a flash of rage. And I was unable to stop until my knuckles were raw and bleeding. "Why?" I hissed.

It felt so unfair. The energy left me as fast as it had come to me, leaving me breathless. I dropped my hands to my sides, the torn skin burned. I shouldn't have been able to feel a thing but I could feel it all…The tearing of my skin, the breaking of my heart.

Lucy’s funeral was an ordeal. We were a distance from camp. I helped Wystan build the pyre and watched him lay Lucy upon it. I held firmly to Wystan's hand throughout, as it was the only thing steadying me. He recited a prayer.

“My Maker, know my heart:  
Take from me a life of sorrow.  
Lift me from a world of pain.  
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.

My Creator, judge me whole:  
Find me well within Your grace.  
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.  
Tell me I have sung to Your approval.

O Maker, hear my cry:  
Seat me by Your side in death.  
Make me one within Your glory.  
And let the world once more see Your favour.

For You are the fire at the heart of the world,  
And comfort is only Yours to give.”

Tears flowed from my eyes. He knew the prayer well it was part of Andraste's Prayer, the one uttered before the siege of Minrathous. I still recalled the words but I did not believe. How could I?

I struggled to release Wystan’s hand when he stepped forth with the flame to light the pyre. I didn't want her to be gone. I didn't want to see the flames take her. The Maker would not have her.

I gasped as Wystan dragged his hand free of mine, and slowly he stepped toward her. Kissing her gently on the forehead, he stepped back and set the pyre alight. I had wanted to stop him but I could not move, so I was forced to watch her fade away. It didn't take long for her to disappear amidst the ferocious flames. Wystan and I exchanged glances as if both lost for words.

Samson seemed the only one able to take the lead. “It is never easy, to sum up, a person’s life and service. Her father was a harsh man but he failed to break her, she was tough, a fighter. She believed in our cause and she found herself in good company. I chose the right mentor for her. You both did all you could. It is regrettable that this was her end.”  
It may not have been heartfelt but his words still resonated. I looked to Wystan and sobbed, “She had us. People who cared about her and loved her. We did all we could.”

“Why wasn’t it enough?” Wystan cried.

“I don’t know," I sobbed.

I cast my eyes back to the flames. I could no longer see her form amidst the fire, she was gone. The pyre slowly diminished to nought but ash and remains. Slowly, an unknown Templar scooped up dirt with his hands, making a shallow grave. He then dragged the fresh earth over it. I did not ask his name as I was just glad that the horrific task had been taken from me. I could not look upon what remained, it was not the memory I wanted.

I waited behind to say my goodbye, not knowing if speaking to the freshly tilled earth would help me in any way or if she could even hear me. It felt pointless appealing to the Maker as they had in my mind obviously abandoned us. So I did what I could to recall Lucy as she was before the corruption took the best of her and I bid a tearful farewell to the ghost of her long lost to us. Nothing eased this pain. I turned leaving Wystan to say what he needed to, and I waited for him. I felt a hand upon my shoulder. I turned to see Warren looking sorrowfully at me. "I am sorry. I tried to get to you last night once I heard but it was hard to find you after they moved you. This must be a nightmare for you both."

"Shame I can't wake up," I remarked in a flat tone, feeling drained of emotion.

"Whatever you need, I am here for you," Warren assured me.

"Well, there is one thing you can help me with..."

"Name it."

"Keep an eye on Wystan."

"I will do what I can."

"Thank you, Warren," I croaked.

I watched Wystan as he slowly turned away from Lucy's grave, his eyes dull and empty as they looked up at me. I embraced Wystan as he drew close, and he held to me and exclaimed, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," I gasped through renewed sobs.

After we finally were able to let go Wystan remarked, "I am so tired, but I fear to sleep."

"As do I," I returned with a heavy sigh.

It had grown dark so swiftly I had barely noticed, time seemed to blur. I asked Warren to aid Wystan back his tent.

"You shouldn’t be alone tonight. You are welcome to stay with me," he pressed as he took Wystan's arm over his shoulder, as he appeared a little shaky.

"I have been given a new tent," I remarked hastily.

"I do not think General Samson would begrudge you company if that is your worry,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush. Samson had remained even after Lucy had been buried, though I was unsure as to why.

"I think I should be alone,” I muttered recalling the raw anguish of last night.

I felt confused, unsure as to whether another’s company would help or make me feel worse. I hated the breathless shock that hit me with each reminder Wystan had unintentionally brought to mind.

"Should you change your mind you know where I am," he assured me.

I just nodded, as I felt unable to smile. Warren and Wystan disappeared into the camp. I found myself lingering as if I had forgotten where I was. I heard Samson's voice utter, "I am sorry, Bethan."

With that simple sentiment he too returned to camp. I found it took me sometime before I could move. I walked away and just tried to navigate through this upheaval of emotions, and found sleep and focus were beyond me even in my new tent away from the stained ground, so I found myself wondering. I did not want to feel this agony any longer but I couldn't for the life of me think of a way to temper the pain. I found myself hovering outside Samson's tent. I knew he had in his own way tried to do all he could to help us, and he had said his door was always open. I was sure this was not at all what he had in mind but I found myself calking out before I could think better of it, “General?”

In time a sleepy voice remarked, "Bethan?"

"Yes, may I speak with you?"

"What is it?"  
"I can't sleep. It feels strange being alone. I think I have gotten used to company.”

"And what do you expect me to do about it?” he strained, “I already moved you.”

“I don’t know. I guess it would be easier to be with...company who won’t try to get me talk about."

I felt my words fail me. I did not wish to visit Warren as I feared his kindness I would bring me undone, but this was a mistake, I clearly wasn't thinking straight.

“Are you asking if you can stay here.....with me?” Samson pressed in what sounded like an awkward manner. Then he added hastily, “I don’t think this is wise. But I am not without mercy. You can stay.”

I felt confused for a moment. Had he just agreed? I found myself rooted to the spot. "Shall I sleep on the floor?"

  
"You are welcome to my cot,” he offered.

“I can't do that to you,” I remarked feeling a little guilty.

“I am too tired to argue, Bethan. So you take what will make you comfortable and I will take what’s left.”

I wearily stepped further in, trying to navigate my way in the dark. I was thankful to not be in my own tent. I could not sleep there looking across at an empty space knowing someone I loved was gone. The ground was hard against my skin but that did not bother me, nor did the cold. I did not expect to sleep but it felt a little less claustrophobic here.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm me several times. I heard a voice assuring me I was okay, that I was safe. A warm embrace surrounded me giving me a semblance of peace.

I awoke with a start, feeling the effects of lying on the ground. I tried to pull up slowly but I found myself impeded. It took me some time to register that it was an arm around my waist. My heart quickened, so I turned to see who it was, and was faced with Samson. My motion caused him to stir. He opened his eyes sleepily, but they flashed open hastily when he noticed that I was awake. He pulled his arms free of me and remarked, “I was only doing for you what you did for me. I couldn’t leave you like that.”

He ran his fingers through his hair before he pulled up, offering me his hand to help me up. I needed it as my muscles were stiff. I felt awkward milling about in his tent as he donned a shirt and his armour in haste.

"Thank you." was all I could think of to fill the strained silence.

"Do not think this is a permanent arrangement. That said, I have decided to move you to another tent with someone else. I can’t put you with Wystan or Warren given the rules but I know another to whom these rules don’t apply. Fix yourself up and follow me," he instructed.

I watched him step out. He held in place for a moment before beckoning me to follow. I followed on, eyes to the ground. I barely registered a thing around me, and time seemed to stretch out before me, making mere minutes feel like an exhaustive lifetime.  
I looked up to find myself a distance from camp, he gestured as he cleared the way for me to enter. "You two already know each other, and I have work to do. I hope this helps.”

With that Samson was gone and I was left looking at the flat expression of an old friend. "Hello, again, Bethan," he remarked in a flat tone.

"And you too, Maddox," I returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prayer is part of Andraste's Prayer before the siege of Minrathous: was taken from Dragon Age: The World of Thedas, vol. 2, p. 64


	15. The past and the present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories resurface taking Bethan by surprise.

"Bring forth the accused," Meredith orders.

Her demand echoes ominously throughout the chamber and adjacent corridor. I hide in the corner. I slink back into the shadows to avoid being under Meredith's harsh glare. Meredith waits in the middle, in the light being cast through the grate overhead. I am trying to steady my breath so Meredith cannot hear my growing fear. I do not wish to be here but it was an order, not a request. ‘Every Templar must witness the rite’ Meredith had told me in a cold authoritative voice. ‘It demonstrates Maker given justice’. I do not believe this nor do I believe magic to be a curse, but I could never utter such foolish notions in my current company.

I stand motionless until the silence is broken by the heavy fall of Templar's armoured boots, and the howls of terror that ring out amidst pleas of, "I am innocent. No, Maker, no. Please."

I jolt as the door to the dank chamber in which we wait is opened revealing two Templar guards dragging a slight blonde female Mage. Her glassy eyes desperately search out anyone's’ she manages to lock on to mine despite the darkness. I averted my gaze; I am unable to look her in the eye. I feel ashamed. I am frozen in place. Tightness in my throat seems to choke away any protest I might wish to make. Pathetic self-interest ensures my continued silence. I do not wish to be cast out upon the streets, or worse. I fear to share the mages fate. So I hold my eyes to the stone ground.

"Please help me," the Mage wails...

I wonder if she is appealing to me? My heart strains at the thought.

"Please help me," she cries once more.

I can't look at her, I am unable to stand the guilt.

"Recruit you will bear witness," Meredith warns.

Startled, I slowly draw my eyes back up to the cruel vision of the restrained Mage twisting and turning in an effort to escape the vice-like grip of the Templars holding her. Her sobs are heart-wrenching. Meredith is unmoved. Cold as ice, her eyes bore into the poor Mage.

"Do you confess to your crimes?" Meredith presses.

"I am innocent," the Mage yelps.

"How can you avoid danger if you lack the capacity to even see it? Do you have anything to say before the rite is performed?"

"Don't do this please," the Mage pleads.

Meredith takes her hands to the mages temples. I can feel a vibration of energy. The mages pleas fall silent. I can see her face is frozen in a mask of agony, tears flow freely down her cheeks. It is a silent brutality, there may not be blood but the end result is the same: there is a death. The mage drops to the ground with a sickening thud. A moment's stillness is followed by the mage thrashing about violently. I take my hand to my mouth to mute the gasp of horror I know is coming.

"Do not fight it. This is for your own good. This is your freedom," Meredith proclaims to the mage.

Meredith truly sounds as if she believes every word of it. She believes this is justice and that this is for the mages own good. This cruelty serves no purpose but to inspire fear and it is working all too well. I am terrified by the power we possess. She did something to the mind of that mage but I do not know what, nor do I wish to possess such knowledge. Meredith proceeds to hold the mage down until their gasps cease, and the mage is still.

"Be at peace," Meredith states before she orders, "Bring me the brand."

One of the Templar guards slips out and returns quickly with an iron brand burning with the light of lyrium. He places it in Meredith's outstretched hand and she presses it harshly to the mage's forehead. The foul smell of burning flesh seeps into the air. It sickens me. We all wait in silence. I do not know what we are waiting for until I hear the mage gasp as if surfacing from the deepest waters. She sits up and accepts the hand of a Templar who only moments ago was holding her in place. No one seems to be shocked or horrified by the ordeal, only me. The other Templars just look jaded as if they cared once but now they no longer have the strength or inclination. Was this my future?

Meredith orders me to aid the mage back to their quarters. This somehow feels like a punishment, as if Meredith wants me to see the supposed good work of the Templar order. I fear she can see my weakness and horror. I do as I am told.

I take my place at the mages side, and lead her free of the chamber. The oppressive atmosphere seems to follow us beyond the cells, and even when we step back into the barracks. I do not look at her. I do not want to, for fear of what I will see. I lead her to an empty room in the mages compound. I aid her to sit and in doing so I unintentionally look at her. I feel I am swallowed up by the emptiness of her eyes. My sorrowful glance to her is wasted, she does not respond. "Are you okay?" I find the courage to ask.

"I am fine," she returns in a flat voice.

The light in her eyes… gone. Who she was… gone. Something feels off and yet I can't quite place it. I feel I have failed the mage in my silence. The shame is overwhelming. I walk slowly from the mage compound to the Templar barracks but I take care to catch no one’s eye. I knock upon Cullen's door, he will be able to calm my mind, allay my fears. It is not him who answers.

"What's wrong?" Samson presses. 

Not expecting to have seen him, I cannot find the right words. I do not know if I can trust him with this. 

" I am sorry to have troubled you," I declare as I begin to back away from the door.

"Wait. You are welcome to wait for Cullen," Samson insists.

I am too weary to argue. I walk past him and begin to pace. "You can talk to me if you want," he offers,"you seem on edge, sweetheart." 

His voice feels oddly calming to me and that word rings in my ears as if I have heard it many times before. I feel confused. "I have just witnessed my first rite," I sob.

I can't hold these tears at bay any longer. I feel an uncontrollable shaking begin in my hands, and soon I am trembling. "You should sit down," Samson suggests tentatively. 

I barely hear him through my panic but I nod. His hand upon my shoulder and waist guides me to sit down upon a cot in the corner of the room. He sits beside me and empathises with my horror without me saying a word of it. "I know it is not an easy thing to witness. I have seen more than I care to,” Samson confesses with a heavy sigh.

I turn to look at him but my eyes blur with tears. He remarks softly, "come here." 

His arms open for me to take comfort in. His gentle gaze makes me feel at ease, and he does not insist. I lean slowly toward him and he pulls me into the warmth of an embrace. I press my head to his chest thankful he is not in full armour. He comforts me throughout my overwhelming panic, trying to assure me it will all be ok.

* * *

  
I jolt awake with the words "I failed you," upon my lips.

My heart hammers in my chest as the overwhelming panic lingers. I have to look around, for a moment I forget where I am until I see Maddox the sun mark emblazoned upon his forehead. His focus upon his task unwavering, I sigh heavily. My nightmares are becoming strangely symbolic. The blonde girl who I had watched suffer and then disappear had been Lucy, but I recall that mage had not been a blonde woman it had been a young elven male. After that day I had tried to do all I could to wipe away the shame of being a silent witness to that poor elven boy's fate. I had not really given it much thought but the man who had comforted me had been Samson. I didn't even thank him at the time.

I drag myself to the edge of my new cot, the weight of guilt past and present heavy upon my chest. I am not ready to move, but I must report to the healing tent. I can’t leave it to another no matter how much I want to. I can't sleep any longer as it has never been restful. My mind was opening old wounds to pour salt upon the fresh ones. I can't take more of this torture. I ready myself quickly. I splash cold water on my face as if to wash away those lingering spirits but as I close my eyes I see both the lifeless eyes of that mage which quickly become Lucy's. I gasp and stagger back blinking my eyes open. There is no escaping them. Would they both be waiting for me every time I close my eyes? The idea is horrifying. I walk out and walk back to camp at speed, wanting to outrun the ghosts that continue to follow my footsteps. I step into the healing tent and notice the stocks are dangerously low. At least I have something to do before someone comes in. I can keep my mind busy.

I begin to brew potions and make poultices. It is an exact art. Timing is key. The smell of elfroot thickens upon the air. I put the fresh potions into vials, and poultices in containers. I hear footsteps, and expect to see a Templar in need of care as I look up, but it is Samson. I pull up to my feet slowly and stand before him.

"Glad to see you back at work. Your replacement had no idea what he was doing," Samson remarks with exasperation, "how are you feeling?"

"Everything feels surreal at the moment. I am okay to work if that was your concern. I will glad of the distraction," I remark more curtly than intended.

"It was not my concern, but I am glad to hear that. One less thing for me to worry about."

I wonder what worries play on his mind but I do not feel it is my place to ask. He turns to leave and I call out, "General?"

Samson turns back to me and answers, "yes, what is it?"

"I think I owe you an apology."

"For what?" He exclaims as if taken by surprise.

"I remember that some time ago you comforted me...after I witnessed my first rite. I neglected to thank you at the time."

He raises an eyebrow quizzically. "What made you think of that?"

"I guess being around Maddox brought up old memories."

"I do recall that." Samson laughs. "It was an age ago. I remember you were all starry-eyed about our choir boy commander."

I feel the blush of embarrassment warm my cheeks as I recall how I acted in Kirkwall when I was around Cullen.

"Shame your tastes are for chaste choir boys." He sighs heavily. "What was it about him? “ Samson strains as his lips curl down a little at the corners.

"He was good to me. And timing was never my strong suit," I confess. I feel strange talking about Cullen as it had been so long since I had thought of him. And the discomfort is greater discussing him with Samson.

Samson states in a somewhat distant voice, “things were very different back then.”

"They were indeed. I would like to think I have changed,” I laugh nervously.

He regards me for a moment, his eyes trail over me slowly. I feel anxious under his scrutiny. His eyes linger upon mine before he utters, "you’re the same.”

"Is that a compliment?” I muse feeling a little unsure.

"I suppose it is," Samson strains.

“Or am I still a fool, fawning over her…commander?” I look to him pointedly hoping he knows I don’t mean Cullen. I feel a little guilt over the way I treated Samson and how I have avoided thinking of Cullen for so long.

"Not the only one.”

"Please tell me you’re not referring to Corypheus. Wouldn’t have imagined he was your type.”

Samson seems amused, I sigh with relief. Samson shakes his head as he a laughs to himself. “No, he is not my type."

I press hastily, "and what is your type?”

"Why ask me when you know the answer?”

"I guess...I don’t feel so sure.”

"Oh, please. It must have been obvious even back then.”

A flood of memories come back to me of each moment I had struggled with something Samson had always offered to aid me, but all I saw was Cullen. I wonder if Samson liked me back then and if so I had not noticed. I feel guilty and foolish. I can’t meet his gaze any longer and I mutter, “Samson I…”

"So you do remember and I thought I was being too subtle.”

I smile and as I look back up I am caught in a wistful stare. Samson’s eyes seem sad and lost in this moment. I reach out and stroke my fingers over his ungloved hand. I squeeze his hand as I take it in mine.

"Are you okay, Samson?" I press.

At first, strangely it was as if he couldn't answer me, or perhaps he didn't know?

His awareness seemed to flood back to the present moment and he looks down at my hand in his as if it were alien to him. His thumb traces the back of my hand. His gentle touch sent a pleasurable shiver through me.

I feel nervous held in his deep gaze; it is as if he is searching for something. He does not step closer but he does not release my hand.

As if he regains his senses his eyes break away and he takes a step back. He takes a deep breath and pulls his hand free of mine. My arm drops back as if cast aside. I exhale, not realising I had been holding my breath.

“I am fine. Bethan, I am your General, I should not cross that line. But I am glad to see you up and about. If you need to talk of Templar matters you know where my tent is."

With that, he left and I feel a little deflated. At least I had gotten to thank him for his kindness, granted it was a few years too late. I take to my work in the healing tent with a distant manner. Keeping a one track mind allows me to work diligently but without compassion. I assess every injury with cold and calculating eyes. I could feel the fear trying to overwhelm me every time I look at a Templar amidst the change. They are suffering greatly. I cannot let it move me as if I do I fear I might break down and never get back up again.

The light is beginning to fail when I finally am able to stop for a moment. I feel so weary. It is in this silence that I swear I hear Lucy's voice. My heart leaps in my chest. I turn half expecting to see her, but emptiness is all that greets me. The disappointment leads my eyes to fill with tears. I had been desperately avoiding a single thought of her, but each Templar in pain mid change to a beast wore down my flimsy defences.

"Please, just give me a sign you're okay," I sob into the ether.

I am not sure what I believe anymore but I am desperate to ease my mind. I await an answer like a fool. The void remains and no assurances are given. I storm out of the healing tent as if the silence offends me. I steel my nerve to head back inside when I see an unknown Templar approach. He stops before me and I look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He seems nervous. I do not assure him. I just wait impatiently for him to speak. “Well?” I press.

He remarks, "I am here to relieve you of your post for the evening."

I nod not desiring to make small talk or form any new friendships. Not anymore.

I wander toward Wystan's tent but I find it empty. I look around for someone to ask of his whereabouts but there is no one. How odd. I walk toward Warren's tent only to find him sleeping. I cannot bring myself to wake him. I find myself wondering toward the training field. I am surprised to find that there is a group of red Templar’s in a circle and in the middle of that circle is two Templar’s circling each other. As I draw close I realise one of the men in the middle is Wystan, it shocks me. I begin to pick up speed.

"Wystan," I cry

The group of Templar’s turn and on sight of me they begin to scatter as if caught by Samson himself. Their reaction confuses me. Wystan remains with his feet still firmly planted in a fighting stance, his arms at his sides are shaking. His hands are balled into tight fists. I draw closer and I can now see he is injured and the flame of rage burns in his blood red eyes, "what happened?" I exclaim in concern.

"Nothing. You ruined our fun," he states with annoyance.

"Let me get something for the cuts," I press trying to not let his hostility burn.

"No leave it," he warns.

My eyes widen as I exclaim, "I ruined your fun? How is this fun?"

This leads me to worry about Wystan, he seems so distant and angry. I do not know what to say to pull him back. Am I going to lose him too?

"Yeah, they bolted upon seeing you. Can you blame them? As for why this is fun you wouldn't understand."

"What? I am you friend help me to understand...Why would they run seeing me?" I strain with an awkward laugh. It does not alleviate any of the fear growing within me.

"They know who you’re...Close to. They don't want you reporting them.”

"Wystan, why are you being like this?" I press feeling taken back by his reaction towards me. This is not like him.

"I am going," Wystan announces as he breezes past me as if I am no one to him.

I want to run after him and confront him but I do not wish to see that look in his eye again. So I stand mouth open ready to call after him but no sound leaves my lips. I take my hand over my eyes and bow my head, to allow the tears to flow. I feel so alone in the middle of that training field. I know grief to be agonising but to see such fury in Wystan's eyes only adds to the pain. My eyes close for only a flicker of a second to free the unspent tears burning my eyes. I see Lucy lying upon the ground in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes are so lifeless. My eyes flash open and I find my hand covering my mouth and a gasp of shock sounds out. It felt as if it was happening all over again. I wonder how many Templars haunt this camp? Were we all surrounded by ghosts past and present?

I begin to feel strange as if there are shadows moving around me. I feel a cold rush up my spine that makes me shiver. I have to move, I make my way back to my tent. I walk as fast as I can. I am glad to see the camp receded from sight. I step into mine and Maddox's tent. I intend to go straight to bed but find armour upon my cot. I grumble and begin to move it as quietly as possible but I fail and drop it in my haste. A loud clatter echoes. I growl in annoyance as piece falls upon my foot.

Maddox's monotone voice startles me, "Bethan."

I turn to see Maddox standing before me. He says nothing but drops to his haunches to aid me in picking up all the pieces. I want to remain angry but Maddox has not been the one to hurt me. "I am sorry Maddox. I was trying to move it with care but I failed. I did not mean to wake you. I hope your armour is not damaged."

"It is yours."

"Mine?" I question.

"Yes. The general instructed me to make it."

I finally look at my new armour in the dull moonlight and I can see just how talented Maddox truly is. It is a work of art, strong yet light. A wave of sadness hits me as I wonder what kind of life he could have had. I turn to thank him but he is gone. I turn my eyes back to the armour the red Templar symbol emblazoned upon the breastplate. Did this make me one of them? If it was a rite of passage, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it. I place the breastplate down.

Wearing that armour would just be another lie. I feel a heaviness press upon my chest. I tire of all these lies. I lie down upon my cot and cast glances at my new armour. I cannot fall any further into this place. I have to send a report to the Inquisition, it has been too long. I have been so lost in this world that I forget my true purpose.


	16. A little careless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat leads to emotions running high for all involved

Another nightmare had plagued me but it had felt so real, the water was so cold. There was someone pulling me down into the darkness but I never dared to look upon them, I merely struggled in vain as I drowned. It had felt so terrifying. The grip upon my leg was tight and had held me from the surface. Gasping for air I bolted upright in my cot. Once I found I could breathe I gulped in air and began to slowly pace my breathing and blinking my eyes until my vision cleared. I was finding it difficult to shake this imagery, and the feeling of dread it left me with. Looking around the tent in the hope of latching on to something, anything that would ground me. Maddox was studying the book before him with his usual unwavering focus, but this was not enough to settle the chill that still coursed through me. I pulled up slowly.

 

"I was informed that you are needed at the training field," Maddox stated flatly.

 

I would have to wear my new armour, there was no escaping it. Looking at my new armour I felt a stab of guilt as if putting this on would make me a traitor to the Inquisition. I wished I had never agreed to this assignment, but it was too late for that as I was in deep. Donning my red Templar armour was strange, as I attached each piece I found unexpected warmth enveloping me. A surge of energy coursed through me, akin to the rush of power when I took my doses of red lyrium.

 

"Maddox?" I pressed through a whirl of dizziness.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Is this armour different somehow?" I strained.

 

"I used specialised tools to infuse lyrium into the metal."

 

This would make my armour similar to Samson's. I wondered if this was a higher dose of lyrium than I could take. My genes could hopefully stem the tide of the corruption as it had done for me thus far. I felt stronger, and mildly drunk on the power of the lyrium coursing through me.

 

I moved swiftly to get to the training field on time, but I managed to be early as I outpaced many of my fellow Templars making their way. Our new lieutenant called us to arm ourselves and run combat drills with the Templar we found in front of us in the queue and should there be an uneven number of Templars on the field the last man would work with him, I thankfully found myself behind Warren. As I still found myself struggling to respect our new lieutenant as I couldn’t stop comparing him to Lieutenant Cruise. Lieutenant Cruise was proud, tall and charismatic. Lieutenant Cruise was an inspiration and a good man. This man, I had not learned his name nor did I care to. He was tall and hard faced, old and bitter. He was not wise and more alike to a hammer to a nail, only capable of only one function. To bark orders and when he barked orders, I barely listened and felt little to no respect for him despite his demands for respect from us. I took a blade and shield and found they both felt lighter than air to me. As we all filed back out I couldn't help but notice that everyone's armour was the same with the exception of mine. It had to be due to my resistance to lyrium, Samson must have thought I could handle it. I followed after Warren, who smiled and readied himself as in anticipation of the order.

 

"Ready yourselves! Upon my order Templars to the left shield bash your opponent."

 

This made me first so I planted my feet and awaited the order. "Charge." the lieutenant called.

 

I charged and rather than meeting any resistance I found it easy to knock poor Warren off his feet. Although I felt for him as he reeled, I also felt desperate to fight on. I remembered this rush; it felt even more addictive now. Warren couldn't even move me when he returned the shield bash. The pauses in between the training drills seemed long and laborious, I grew restless. When we practised swordplay I managed to break his sword with the power I put into to the swing of my blade. It took focus and self-control to lower my sword. When training came to an end I found that I wasn't tired and hadn't broken a sweat and I was in no pain. I felt powerful yet on edge. Warren looked at me curiously and strained through gritted teeth with half a smile, "You certainly didn't take it easy on me did you."

 

"I am sorry, but I felt as though I couldn't," I confessed.

 

"I thought you seemed a bit restless."

 

"It’s this armour," I remarked as I looked at my breastplate once more half expecting to see a red mist emanating from it, but did nothing so grand. It only caught the sun's glare upon the metal, which forced me to squint.

 

"Hmm...I noticed that too." Warren seemed to also be giving my armour a look over, "Why have you received different armour?”

 

"That is because I have a greater resistance to Lyrium, nothing more."

 

"Oh please, your protests are paper thin. I think you two need to be more careful about your relationship," he warned.

 

"We don't have one," I remarked with annoyance 

 

"It is obvious how he favours you. This armour is a prime example. Do not forget that these men did not all join for the same reasons as we did."

 

It made me feel the need to press, "Why did you join?"

 

Warren smirked and remarked,"I guess me and Samson have more in common than I realised, both a fool for a pretty face."

 

I raised my eyes. "Funny. What is the real reason?" I replied harshly, my nerves wearing thin.

 

"I believe the world needs to change. But like I said, be weary we have those here who thirst for power. Any weakness they see they maybe libel to use."

 

"You think I am putting him in danger?" I exclaimed feeling taken back. I had not even considered the danger for Samson.

 

"In a sense. I have no great love of Samson but he is a known quantity. We have no way of knowing how another would act in his place.” He paused as I narrowed my eyes at him as his words did not the ring of a devoted Templar. "He is a good general, better than those I had in Orlais. Tell no one I said that." He grinned but that smile wasn't having the charming effect I assumed Warren was hoping for.

 

"Your secret is safe," I assured him with a stern glare, not feeling amused.

 

"As is yours," he joked.

 

"You just said it's obvious so it's hardly a secret and it can't happen. I need to recall my purpose and stay focused."

 

"Your purpose? “ He asked with a raised eyebrow, “Not our purpose?"

 

"You know what I meant," I replied hastily hoping I hadn't aroused suspicion.

 

His eyes narrowed for a moment, "where are you reporting to?"

 

"The healing tent. How’s Wystan getting on?" I questioned desperately, to change the subject and focus on other matters.

 

"He is acting strange, and he won't talk to me," Warren remarked wistfully.

 

"I should go and see him," I mused aloud but I felt a lingering doubt given his harsh words and cold manner toward me.

 

"I would give him some space. People grieve in their own way…speaking of which, how are you coping?"

 

I felt like I wasn't coping but I didn't want to own that, so I replied, "I feel strange...Do you believe in ghosts?"

 

"I never really gave it much thought," he replied with a distant voice as if lost in a daydream.

 

"It is as if she is haunting me," I confessed.

 

He raised an eyebrow, seeming a little astonished to hear me say such things. "I have seen people almost destroy themselves with what if's. Sadly there was nothing you could have said or done. She is in a better place now."

 

It was my turn to be a little taken back. "You have faith?"

"Yes, why is that so hard to believe?" He folded his arms almost protectively over his chest as if shielding his stance.

 

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to be a man of faith.” I wanted to tell him how my faith was faltering, as I longed to gain assurances.

 

Warren looked at me with what looked like confusion. “How could I not believe in something? After all, I have seen.”

 

His thoughts the opposite to mine. After all, I had seen I felt it could not be possible for a higher power to be watching over us, sitting idle while so many suffered. I did not wish to debate this with him, not now, as I had to focus on other things. "I must report to my duties. I will see you tomorrow on the training field."

 

He looked as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. He smiled and stated, "Go easy on me tomorrow, would you? I am not so young these days."

 

I tried my hardest not to smile but a wry grin crossed my lips. Shaking my head, I looked to Warren and waved before heading toward the healing tent. When I stepped inside I recalled how low the stores were and I realized that it was the perfect excuse to head to the woods and send a report to the Inquisition. I left the tent swiftly and headed toward the General's tent, as it was best that I follow protocol and not draw attention to myself.

 

The curtain to Samson's tent was pulled back, so as I drew closer I could see that Samson looked lost in thought. "General?"

 

"What is it, Bethan?" He pressed in haste as if wanting to speed me out of there.

 

"The stores are low. I would like to replenish them if possible."

 

He grumbled, "I have enough to bloody do. I don’t know if we can spare you given that you are the best healer we have. There is none amongst this lot that I trust more…"

 

He was looking up at me, with a look, I couldn’t describe but it left me feeling flustered. "That is high praise, Sir. Thank you,” I felt a little taken back but honoured and saddened to know he trusted me, given that I was betraying him. A stab of guilt cut through my chest. I took a deep breath. “I will return to my post.”

 

"Wait," he sighed, "Damon," he called out.

 

I can only assume this Templar was close by as he charged in hastily, heaving from the exertion. "Go to the healing tent, would you?"

 

"But, sir you said..."

 

"I know what I said but desperate times - that is an order," he warned while Damon still lingering before him.

 

Damon saluted and remarked, "Yes, Sir."

 

He ran out as fast as he had rushed in. 

 

I felt a mild sense of amusement watching their interaction. When Samson wasn't barking orders at you, he was rather assured and confident when giving commands and his sarcasm wasn’t cutting but amusing and witty. "Crisis averted I hope." He smiled, his eyes lingering upon me before he shook his head and added," now please leave. I have work to do."

 

'As do I' I thought to myself as I nodded and made a swift exit and made my way toward the forest slowly as not to raise any eyebrows. My fellow Templars must have been busy elsewhere as I saw so few milling around. I took my time wandering deeper into the forest but not too far from camp. I surveyed my surroundings for some time. Usually, it would have been to take in the beauty of nature but I felt a little lost in a daze and took me some time before I could focus. It took some time before I found the first sprig of elfroot. And I walked over to it knowing that I couldn’t return empty handed. Pulling out a small blade from my boot I began loosening the soil and digging carefully as not to damage to plant. Its roots, as well as its leaves, had medicinal qualities. 

 

One moment I was picking elfroot the next I felt a forceful push upon my back, leading me to end up face to the ground while a loud crash sound out. A body was pressing down upon me. The pressure was making it difficult to draw breath, the smell and taste of the dirt invaded my senses. I spat out the dirt clinging to my tongue. The taste was vile, the smell sharp but fresh. I felt an arm tighten around my waist and pull me up. I readied myself to fight and was surprised to be face to face with Samson.

 

"General?" I exclaimed.

 

He took an armoured finger to my lips and pointed across from us to a giant lumbering about the trees its eyes darting as if searching us out. I looked to where the crash had sounded. There were the remains of a boulder-littered behind me. My heart lurched. If Samson hadn't knocked me out of its path, I would be dead. I was surprised and worried that I had not seen or heard it coming. Was I that distracted?

 

Thank you, I mouthed. "Don't thank me yet sweetheart, it's still looking for us. If it heads this way you stay hidden and I will take it down," He ordered in a hushed voice.

 

I wasn't going to let him take that risk. "I will not leave you to fight that beast alone. I will distract it and you will have a better chance," I replied.

 

"I gave you an order," he warned in a low growl.

 

"I can't in good conscience follow it. I won't hide while you risk your life. I can help."

 

He took a hand slowly across his face, grumbled and remarked, "fine, stay low and move fast."

 

We waited in the hope that the giant would stumble away or get bored of looking but it continued to search. I steeled myself to run out into its line of sight. I took a deep breath and bolted out into the clearing and when I was what I assumed to be safe distance but close enough to be heard I cried out "Hey,” amidst waving my arms to assure I was visible.

 

It turned and its eyes set upon me. My heart hammered in my chest. The giant's eyes focused before it began to crashing toward me. It moved faster than I expected. I barely pulled away in time from its grasping hand. Samson was quick to leap upon the crouching giants back, plunging his sword through its neck. It yowled it pain, I almost felt sorry for the beast as it stumbled. Samson didn't move like a man past his prime, he was swift and powerful. He was amazing to watch but the smile was wiped from my face when the giant jolted in a final attempt to remove his attacker, which led Samson to fall but thankfully it was no great height as the giant fell to its knees but at the angle, I was seeing it looked like an awkward landing. The loud thud of the dying giant sickened me, as I could no longer see Samson. Was he okay? I raced over in search of him. When I found him flat on his back covered in blood I panicked. Racing to his side I dropped to my knees and placed my hand over his mouth. Relief flooded me when his breath warmed my palm. "Samson, are you hurt?"

 

"No," he strained, "the poor landing winded me. The blood isn't mine."

 

"Are you sure? I can make you something for the pain if you need it," I replied feeling a little sceptical as to whether he would admit to being in pain.

 

"I am sure," he strained through a laboured breath.

 

"Would you at least chew this elfroot to humour me, please?"

 

"Fine," he grimaced.

 

I pulled a leaf free and he opened his mouth as if he expected me to place it on his tongue. When he didn't move his hands I nervously wiped it on my tunic and placed the leaf on my fingers then pressed it to his tongue. I wasn't sure if it was intentional but his lips closed over my fingers and as I pulled them free I felt the gentle pressure of his lips trace over my fingertips. Goosebumps spread across my skin, my heart pounded a little harder in my chest. I said nothing about it and questioned, "Do you feel any pain or numbness?"

 

"No, I told you I am fine."

 

"You expect me to take your word for it? You're stubborn."

 

"Ha. That's rich coming from you."

 

"Well your sarcasm seems to be unaffected," I joked.

 

I took the small blade I used to aid in unearthing herbs, cleaned it as best as I could on my pants and jabbed it into his calf to assure myself there was no numbness in his limbs, to which he exclaimed, "Ow, what was that for?"

 

"I had to be sure that you hadn’t lost any feeling."

 

"Any excuse," he laughed softly. "Help me up would you."

 

I took his outstretched hand, pulling myself up and then slowly helping him to his feet using a nearby tree to prop him up. I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

 

"Yes." He waved his hand dismissively.

 

He slowly began to move on his own gingerly moving about, hissing with each stretch out of a joint. He seemed steady enough. He turned back and remarked, "see I told you."

 

I quickly threw my arms around his neck and pulled him cautiously into an embrace and whispered, "Thank you, if you hadn't been here, I wouldn't be...alive."

“I couldn’t lose you,” he remarked wistfully as if lost in the moment.

 

I pulled back and looked up at him his arms still around me and mine around him. There was that look again, it seemed to convey a little more than just concern for my wellbeing. I felt nervous. He didn’t move forward but just kept looking at me in this manner. The tension became unbearable, I had to say something. "What were you doing out here?" I wanted to know if it was suspicion as I was beginning to feel a greater sense of guilt and paranoia over betraying him. I wondered if he knew I was out here to report to the inquisition.

 

"No one but me knew you were out here, and not everyone reports important facts straight away." He grumbled. "Giants had been seen close to camp. So I came out here to end the giant problem."

 

"Why come out here yourself?"

 

"You expect me to entrust this work to a recruit. It was also a nice change of pace from strategy and paperwork."

 

"Glad I could be of service." I smiled. My amusement faded when I really thought about how much danger we had been in and I exclaimed, “Was it not dangerous to come out alone?”

 

His eye contact became evasive before he replied, “I hate to admit that was foolishness on my part. I didn’t think. I just realised you were in danger and I followed after the footprints. Good thing this armour leaves its mark and it was luck that I found you in time.”  
I had no idea how to express how grateful I was. That was so careless. He had risked his life and role as General not for a cause but for me. “I am so thankful, but don’t risk your life like that again.” I was unsure how thanking him, turned into me chiding him but it terrified me to think that he had taken such a risk for me. 

 

He smiled and remarked, “Oh you’re in charge now are you.”

 

“Well, it seems someone has to be in charge of your wellbeing.”

 

He raised an eyebrow and I realised I still had my arms around his neck. I was beginning to feel a little anxious being so close for so long, so I unlinked my arms and began to pull away when I felt a pull on my arm. I found myself back in his arms with his lips pressed gently against mine. It must have been the rush of adrenaline. This was impulsive. I returned his soft kiss, maybe it was meant to be quick and fleeting but it became more, the pressure of his lips became heavy and passion led his lips to trace mine, pulling me closer. His low muffled groan led my fingers to tighten at his waist. He sounded good and the feel of his lips pressed to mine sent a thrill coursing through my body. I pressed myself more urgently toward him. Damn this armour - I wanted to be closer. I was a little dazed and disappointed when he broke the kiss. He breathlessly declared, "Fuck"

 

I hoped that was something good but his expression looked more shaken than aroused. I released my grip at his waist feeling a little confused myself and exclaimed, “But Samson that was..."

 

"A mistake. Adrenaline was high don't make more of it" he declared as if scrambling for explanations.

 

"I will aid you back to camp...for my own piece of mind. Then I need to finish restocking the stores, sir." I snapped with obvious irritation at his turn around.

 

He looked at me and then sighed heavily before stating, "That may not be wise given the giant presence."

 

"I will be more careful now I know," I assured him.

 

"No, I suggest you bring a look out at the very least or I can't allow it."

 

I grumbled. How would I send a report to the inquisition? So much for my plans. "I assume you're not volunteering, I mean you might make more mistakes and we can't have that."

 

"Bethan, I-“

 

"Don't need to explain, General."

 

"Damn it! You think I want to things this way. You know what I want."

 

"So take it,” I remarked feeling emboldened by the pure energy coursing through me.

 

"It's not that simple."

 

"We are away from prying eyes.”

 

"It's not safe out here, and this isn't..."

 

"Isn't what?"

 

"How I imagined it..."

 

"Oh, and how did you imagine it?"

 

"I can't tell you that. I have crossed enough lines with and for you today, it has to stop. This isn’t how armies work, Generals don’t run off half-cocked to save.."

 

“To save what? What am I to you?”

 

“Bethan, don’t ask me that. This is not the time or place.”

 

“There will never be a right time or place.”

 

“You are a problem.”

 

“Problem? Thanks for clearing that up.” My anger came out in a crack emotional tone.

 

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“And how did you mean it?” I pressed knowing I shouldn’t keep pushing him but I found a strange compulsion, a need to know what was going on here.

 

“You make me careless, and foolish. Which would be fine if I didn’t have an army to consider.”

 

I sighed, dropping my gaze to the ground. "I don't mean to make things hard for you."

 

Venturing to look up I found a wry grin upon his face, "I think that is exactly what you do...but I know what you meant. This is a mess, I didn't intend to..."

 

"Thank you for saving my life. You move fast for an old man." I teased trying to break this Maker awful tension.

 

"Watch that tongue of yours," he warned.

 

"I think you saw to that," I remarked with amusement.

 

"Bethan, please," He stressed.

 

Aiding Samson back to camp was easy. At first, Samson struggled, leaning upon me for support. I had expected to struggle but again I didn’t even break a sweat. This power was both addictive and worrying. The last moments of our journey were awkward as he walked under his own power and he kept looking at me catching my eye then quickly turning away. This made me wonder what was I doing, as every time I was around him I felt confused and it seemed that it was the same for him. Once I set Samson down in his tent, I began to leave and yet again felt his grip upon my arm. I looked at him with confusion as all this back and forth was playing havoc with my mind, he was right this had to stop but part of me did not want it to as it was a perfect distraction from my grief, and I found myself in spite of his behaviour caring for him. “What?” I pressed as he just stared vacantly at me.

 

“I am glad you are safe, and I would like to keep it that way. Take a look out or return to the healing tent. Those are your only options,” he chided.

 

“Fine,” I exclaimed. He didn’t release my arm so I remarked, “I need my arm back.”

 

“Ah, yes.” He released me and mused, “So who are you taking out with you?”

 

“Why?” I returned feeling curious as to him pressing me.

 

“So I know who is missing from camp and why. Need all posts manned.”

 

“I will ask Warren.”

 

“Why not Wystan?”

 

“That is a complex answer I am sure you have no time for being quite so busy.”

 

“Look, I enjoy banter but here you must be respectful as I am your commander.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” I replied wistfully.

 

He seemed a little shaken himself, so I left him to it. I did not look back despite wanting to. I took to Warren’s tent and found him missing, so I began to scout around for him and was taken back to find him in the healing tent. I gasped and ran over to him. He was standing upright leaning against a cot, covered in blood. “Are you okay?” I cried.

 

He looked a little startled. “Yes, it’s not my blood. Some poor bastard was manning the edge of camp when a giant attacked by the time we got to him he was barely breathing. The giant had left him to his agony as if he was just a mere annoyance.”

 

“Where is he? Maybe I can do something,” I pressed.

 

“Nothing you can do for him now, he died a few moments ago.”

 

I bowed my head, feeling hypocritical praying for him. I wasn’t sure if I believed in the Maker, but it was all I could do for him now. I looked up at Warren to find his head was also bent in prayer, his eyes closed as he mouthed the words, “may he find peace at the Maker's side.” I was envious as I wanted to have faith again but I felt too confused to find any real assurance in my shaken faith. I led him outside knowing this was not the place to talk.

 

“I think I met that giant in the forest.”

 

“Shit, are you hurt?” He exclaimed as he scrutinised me.

 

“No, I am fine.”

 

“What happened?” He exclaimed looking a little dumbfounded.

 

“An unlikely rescuer.”

 

“Ah, I think I can guess. Didn’t imagine he was the type to save damsels in distress.” Warren smirked as if amused by his own quip.

 

“Amusing. He saved my life and I am grateful.”

 

“And just how grateful were you?” He teased.

 

I glowered at him and didn’t respond to the innuendo, “I would need a look out should I return to the forest to gather supplies.”

 

“Is it necessary?” He replied wearily as if the state of the poor dead Templar had him more shaken than he cared to admit.

 

“Yes, these poor bastards are in constant agony. If all I can do is ease their pain, I will do it.”

 

“Okay, and if I save your life…” he remarked with amused grin.

 

“You get my gratitude.”

 

“Hurray,” he threw his hands up.

 

I couldn’t help but laugh at his sarcastic display. “Come on, before it's dark.”

 

“After you, my lady.”

 

I rolled my eyes but took cautiously back to the forest to get the remaining ingredients for the healing potions, my eyes more watchful than they had been. Anxiously I searched as swiftly as I could for the herbs and plants I needed. Glancing back at Warren to assure myself he was okay, he smiled and nodded. Continuing I wondered if despite the danger I could manage to get a message to the inquisition. Under Warren’s watchful eye it was doubtful and too risky. It would seem circumstance was holding me from my purpose. I grumbled under my breath.

 

“Are you done?” Warren pressed.

 

“Yes, I suppose I am.” I sighed.

 

“Thank the Maker. Don’t think I could have handled a giant solo," he muttered sounding relieved.

 

“Hey, I am here. I would have helped.”

 

“I get you killed and then Samson will kill me.”

 

“Can you drop it?” I pleaded.

 

“I will but maybe there is something that you should know.”

 

“What is it?” I sighed with frustration.

 

“When I was joining, when it seemed like Samson wasn’t quite selling me, he offered me, you.”

 

“What?” I spat as a flash of anger and shock cut through me.

 

“He offered me, you. So I would think twice about being so grateful.”

 

“Wait a minute, did you accept?” I scowled.

 

“No, of course not. I expect nothing from you,” he assured me.

 

I was taken back, trying to think. “You can't be serious? He wouldn't."

 

"I am sorry, but I am afraid it's true." He looked into my eyes as if to prove he wasn't lying.

 

I couldn't believe it but I found myself pressing, "why are you tell me this now?"

 

“You seem to be getting in quite deep with him and I am concerned for you.”

 

“Concerned for me? You talk about him as if he is dangerous?”

 

“You forget that he can be, and it is possible that this is only one of many things you're unaware of.”

 

I hated hearing it as it was probably true. The urge to charge back into camp and slap him was hard to contain but I had to. Casting a wary eye around just in case our argument had drawn attention, luckily it seemed we were alone. I had to focus on other things, so I turned to Warren and stated, “Thank you for your concern. We can go back now.”

 

Warren looked as if he wanted to say something at several points upon our slow return to camp but he thought better of it each time. I was grateful for it as I didn’t want to talk. Returning to the healing tent in silence I relieved Damon who looked almost traumatised by his short time in my post. Granted a bloody mess of a man had died before him but surely he had seen such horrors before. If not I worried for how he would cope in the days to come, to witness his own transformation. I did not verbalise it as I did not want to befriend anyone. Damon looked so on edge when I let him go that he raced out. Taking to the brewing of potions to keep myself busy and when that was done. I awaited any injuries or Templars suffering. A few came to me for potions to ease the pain and I gave them what they needed. It was nice to see that most Templars were coming on their own to ask for aid, and that was either a sign of trust or a sign of the pain becoming too much, I hoped for the former.

 

A different Templar was sent to relieve me of my duties for the night and I knew the best thing I could do was return to my tent. As otherwise I risked slapping my general even though he would bloody well deserve it. Why had I thought him a good man? I was starting to wonder whether the lyrium was playing with my mind. He had saved my life and supported me when Lucy died. I should just assume that the fates were throwing up obstacles for a reason maybe I should heed the signs, but that would require faith. I wondered if it was possible that Warren was lying but what cause would he have for such lies? The only way to know would be to ask a deathly awkward question but not tonight as my emotions were running high. The only thing I could think to do to provide some relief was once inside my tent, to remove the armour piece by piece. But as I did I found I felt drained, barely managing to remain upon my feet. Feeling faint and dizzy, I laid down for a moment to recover and gather my scattered thoughts.


	17. My protege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan falls deeper into the world of the red templars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note of thanks for my new beta, Delaya.

I stirred to find a set of hands pressing upon my arms shaking me to consciousness. Tensing my muscles before their face became clear I wrapped my hands around their arms pulled them close and head-butted them. The sharp pain in my forehead was worth deterring this possible attacker. As the adrenaline surged the haze before my eyes began to clear and I looked down at the Templar crying out upon the ground. 

'Shit. What had I done? And who had I done it to?'

An odd sense of disappointment and relief came to me as I could make out it wasn't Samson, the armour was that of a regular Templar and the build was too slight. "Damon?" I guessed despite not having a clear view of his face as he was holding to his nose. 

"Fuck! What was that for?" He exclaimed.

"I am so Sorry. You surprised me and I did it in a reflex," I confessed feeling a stab of guilt at causing him pain, but it had been a stupid idea to shake me.

"They need you in the healing tent, now!"

I dragged myself up, splashed cold water on my face to rouse myself. Racing over to the tent I found that all seven beds were occupied by Templars groaning and writhing in pain. And there were three more leaning upon cots as if to stay standing. My eyes widened upon the scene of injuries and bloodied faces. There were so many cries for help and aid that it was a little overwhelming and difficult to focus on one voice clearly. My head began to throb. I couldn’t recall the last time I had dealt with so many injuries at once. There had always been other healers with us when I was a Templar. As a red Templar, I was a solo healer at times took its toll on me. It was a heavy burden of responsibility but they were in need, and I couldn’t abandon them.

I had to give each Templar a once over and assess who was in most need and who could be saved. The two closest to me were beyond even the greatest healers ability. Parts of their bodies were crushed and broken beyond repair. It was a sickening sight. The only thing that could be done was to ease their pain or end it. It was difficult to dismiss them and take to another’s side. So I took one man’s hand and it was as if he knew. He gritted his teeth and nodded. I pulled my blade free and put enough pressure on the hilt to drag the blade across his throat. It was a bloody and horrific act. Watching the man choke and gasp for air. The stillness that followed left me cold and uneasy. It was difficult to accept that this was the only mercy I could offer. I would have prayed for their soul had I the time or faith to spare a care for their soul. But I had work to do. After what felt like another execution there were still too many who needed pain relief and aid. I wiped the blood of the fallen Templars from my hands. And I sheathed my blade hoping I would not have cause to use it again.

I took to the Templar who I could only assume had a leg injury given that he had a tight grip upon it. His hands were coated in blood but I had no way of knowing whose. So I pressed, "What happened?"

"We took care of the giant problem," he strained through gritted teeth. 

My eyes widened. I couldn't believe they had gone back out there. "Where is the pain?"

"Everywhere," he gasped.

"Please I know you're in a lot of pain but I need you to be more specific. Did the giant hit you? Did you fall?"

“The giant dragged me up by my leg if the behemoth had not distracted him I wouldn’t be here.”

So many were still calling and begging for my attention. I needed help and spotted Damon. His eyes were wide and his nose swollen. I had no time to allow my guilt to hold me back. "Damon, help this man out of his armour. I need to see the extent of his injuries."

Damon thankfully was good at taking orders. He looked terrified but he followed each order given. “Damon, give him elfroot.” Damon’s hands were shaking as he passed the nervous solider the vial. He drank it in one gulp and tightened his jaw as if he knew what was next, “Hold him down Damon.” Turning to the anxious Templar whose red eyes were set upon me, I calmly asked, “I need you to remain as still as possible. The joint is out and I need to push it back in place.” He nodded but I had to warn him, “This will hurt.”

I pulled my sleeve over my clammy brow and took a deep breath. Damon was holding the Templar in place. I took his leg in hand and pushed down harshly until I heard a click beyond the strained grunts of the pained Templar. His face was reddened as if holding back the screams had been exhaustive. I gave him more elfroot “this will take the edge off the pain and deal with any inflammation,” I smiled gently before leaving him to recover.

I still had other Templars to tend to. It felt like I had been working for hours, dressing wounds, assessing pain and injury. Giving those poor souls in agony the most numbing potions I could find. Giving elfroot leaves to those suffering but likely to recover as stocks ran low. By the time I had done all I could I was exhausted and two of the ten had slipped away in the most painless way I could give them. It infuriated me to look at them now so still, and silent. I had found their screams preferable to this. Why did they have to die? I wanted to do more. To save them all but I had failed. One job and I couldn't even do that right. My mind was becoming twisted and tangled with all the emotions this stirred up within me. Anger was the easiest one to deal with. So I paced and raged silently in my mind at the one I felt abandoned by, the Maker. I knew they weren't listening to me if they even existed but I looked up and asked what gave them the right to let such suffering continue. After I felt my rage ebb away into a heavy feeling of reassignment to the general cruelty of life I felt tears burned my eyes and stream down my face. There was one other I could rage at for this. I steeled my nerve to leave the tent but before I did I turned to Damon who was propping himself up on the table. "You were a great help to me today, I don't think I would have managed without you. I will be gone only for a moment. Will you be okay here?"

He seemed startled for a moment before he met my gaze, "I will be fine, but please, be quick."

I nodded and stormed toward Samson's tent knowing the way so well. It was about time I gave him what for. I burst in not thinking or caring to announce my presence. The sight that greeted me doused my ire. He looked in pretty bad shape himself. His movement was slow and each step toward me was cautious. It seemed as if he was in too much pain to even question my disrespectful entrance to his tent. "Why didn't you come to the healing tent?" I stressed.

"My men needed help more than I did," he strained in a raspy voice.

"Samson," I chided, "Sit down. I will take care of you."

I was relieved that he didn’t even try to argue but that also worried me. The pouch on my belt still had some elfroot leaves in it, so I pulled out a handful and passed them to him. He took them and began to chew them with a look of distaste. I looked around for something to at least clean the visible cuts upon his face. His lip was split and the redness of what would certainly become bruises was evident around his right eye. Finally, I found alcohol hidden away under his old Templar armor. This would do. I tore the sleeve of my shirt free and turned it inside out, it felt easy. I balled it up and soaked it in alcohol. "This will hurt," I warned.

He gave a weary smile and remarked hoarsely, "I am starting to think you like causing me pain."

I raised an eyebrow and sighed heavily as I walked back over to him. I pulled close and dabbed gingerly at the cuts. He hissed when I reach his swollen lip. I felt his hand take to my back pulling me closer. Trying to hold my focus on his injuries despite his proximity was difficult, as his thighs pressed to mine I flittered my eyes from his to avoid the growing tension. "You need to take off your armour," I advised.

"You will use any excuse, won’t you."

A flush crossed my cheeks and a hastily added, "It's to see the extent of your injuries."

He seemed amused by me being flustered and he remarked with a weak smile, "I know. But it is best I keep it on as it will help me heal faster. I didn’t take the brunt of the attack. Foster did, it was a shame to lose him. He was a good man."

"Foster?"

"Ah, you wouldn’t have seen him before the change. He was as you have so aptly called them, a behemoth. He shielded us from the giant’s hits until he couldn’t take anymore."

It was nice to see that Samson remembered his soldiers and their names. This gave me hope, that there was still humanity in him and that he wasn’t a monster but a man. His hand caught mine, his fingers traced lightly over my knuckles. The light feathery touch made me tremble. I didn’t want to look up into his eyes as I wanted to remain angry and I feared if he caught me within an intense gaze I might falter. His second hand cupped my chin and urged me to look up at him. I wanted to resist but I let his hand guide me and I met his gaze. It wasn’t intense, it felt like more and it was overwhelming. I was breathless and I felt the urge to run but I couldn’t will my feet to move. “Bethan,” he breathed in a whisper.

“Why did you go back out there?” I pressed finally finding my voice.

“I had to,” he looked to me as if I had asked a foolish question.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I stammered my gaze breaking away from him.

“I can look after myself,” he remarked sharply.

My head snapped back up and I glared at him, “Oh, forgive me for being foolish enough to care.”

He sighed heavily and replied, “You’re foolish for caring for me.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I am a fool,” I hissed recalling my anger.

Samson seemed surprised by my tone and narrowed his eyes, “What?” he pressed.

“Nothing.”

I continued to take care of the injuries I could see, cleaning cuts with a clinical-like distance. He barely looked at me until I was done. He then told me as I turned, “We will need to recruit new soldiers to the cause. We have lost too many of late.”

I stopped and slowly turned back, “And you need me for what? Bait?” I snapped without thinking.

“What?” His brow knitted. “No. I would rather you not come with me this time, as we will have to recruit from the more unsavoury elements given our reputation preceding us.”

“Unsavory elements?”

“Criminals.”

“I can handle myself,” I parroted his earlier words, “I am stronger than most here. What's this about?"

His eye contact became evasive but he soon met my face and added, "I need you here. You are the only person competent enough to get those injured soldiers through their recovery."

"I can teach Damon the basics..."

Samson guffawed. "You think you’re a miracle worker?"

" No, but he was very helpful this morning. Wouldn't have gotten through it without him." Samson raised what I assumed to be a sceptical brow. "He can do it," I assured him.

" You realise it's not your life in his hands."

I sighed heavily. Taking a chance upon someone was scary. I could only hope I was right to put my faith in him. "I realise this, sir."

"If you must but any mistake he makes is on your head. You will have to be nothing but professional with me. You must follow any order I give," he chided.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

Samson’s stern expression faded for a moment and he smiled. I returned his gentle smile before I left. I had not gained the peace of mind I was hoping for and yet I seemed content to follow him regardless. Maybe I truly was a fool. A strange wave of sinking sensation came over me as I left Samson’s tent as if I was slipping deeper into something I did not want to be a part of. So much innocent blood now stained my hands and soul, it was a heavy burden. Did I really want to add to the guilt by building trust only to break it? I was here for a purpose I had to stop letting slip from my mind. I returned to the healing tent and as instructed I cared for the Templars I could help.

Damon was lingering in the corner his eyes wide and fixed off in the distance. I walked over and took my hand to his shoulder. Damon flinched and seemed to take a moment to realize who I was. “Bethan, I am glad you’re back. I haven’t a clue about what I am doing here,” he confessed with an anxious laugh.

“Damon, you handled yourself well enough amidst that crisis. You underestimate yourself. I can teach a few things if you would like? Maybe give you some confidence to take over here when necessary,” I offered thinking about easing my burden in any way possible. I could not have them relying on me. I was not one of them and I had to remember that.

Damon nodded slowly his nose still red from me head-butting him. A small twinge of guilt led me to say, “I can take care of that.”

“It’s okay,” he held up his hands as if afraid I would do more damage than good.

“Fine. If it heals strangely remember I offered.”

“Why would it heal strangely?”

“It’s crooked. I can straighten it. I fixed many a broken nose in my time as a Templar. But I warn you it will hurt as the skins still tender. So you may want to take some elfroot.”

“If you don’t fix it what will happen?”

“It will become harder to breathe and be painful all the time. This will hurt but only for a moment,” I assured him as he seemed to that same fearful look in his eye.

“Okay,” he remarked hastily as if he was close to losing his nerve.

I wondered how such a skittish man could end up in the company of the Red Templars. The urge to press him I ignored as this would only lead to more messy entanglements. So I just took elfroot leaves from my pocket and handed them to him and waited while he chewed upon them. Once he took a long swallow, grimacing his hands took to the edge of a now empty cot, tightening until his knuckles whitened. I took this as my cue to walk over. I asked, “Ready?”

He just nodded and rather than warn him when I was about to do it. I just swiftly straightened his nose. He yowled and his eyes watered but it was over. “I thought you would at least warn me,” he stammered.

“Sorry, but this way it was over with faster.”

He narrowed his glassy eyes and stated, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I will give you a moment. Then we can focus on basic care and potions if you feel up to it.”

I knew that if I wanted to create this distance I should be harsh and order him but he seemed so overwhelmed that I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel. He stood still for a time his teeth gritted and his breath heavy and shaky but after a time his breathing levelled and he pulled up and looked at me and remarked, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I remarked raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“For giving me a chance. I know Samson saved me but you believe in me and it helps.”

I was speechless, as this was exactly what I didn’t want. Someone thinking fondly of me but I couldn’t shoot him down. The only thing I could do was brush it off as if I hadn’t heard it. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

He nodded and proceeded to instruct him clearly and concisely on how to make potions, stem bleeding and bandage wounds. He was hard work. Each time he struggled and just looked at me helplessly and awaited instruction. It took longer than I hoped for him to grasp the basics. I feared that maybe Samson was right, he wasn’t ready. Could I really leave these recovering Templars in his care?

Exhausted I staggered back to my tent. I found Maddox hard at work. It was strange given the late hour but I could only guess after the giant attack so many pieces of armour needed repairing. The warmth of the small forge seemed to lull me and the sound of metal hitting metal became hypnotic.


	18. The further we fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan finds herself falling ever deeper into the world of the red templars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to BriarRose for stepping in as beta

Sinking in the sand, there was nothing I could do to slow my descent. It was only a matter of time before I sunk too far under; sunk to a place no one could find me. I knew struggling was fruitless and there was no one and nothing, no lifeline out there. I was doomed to observe my own demise in slow motion. The fear began to rise with the sand, my limbs now all held in place. I could scream but I am terrified that there are other dangers lingering just beyond the sinking sand, and the fate they have planned for me is far worse. So I remained silent and helpless. A sob catches in my throat as the murky depths slowly covered my mouth. Another breath of life denied and before the final strangled gasp, the world faded from view.

 

Jerked into consciousness, a cry escapes my lips. Maddox’s flat tone inquires, “Are you hurt?”

 

Still recovering from the shock, in the grips of a cold sweat, I hear his words but feel unable to respond, still catching my breath and trying to steady it. I looked up at Maddox. He is a blur as my tears burn my dry eyes and distort my vision. I finally reply in a shaky tone, still tainted with lingering dread, "I am...fine. It was a nightmare, nothing more."

 

It was impossible for me to gauge his reaction as he stood there with a glazed expression as if waiting for me to say something more, to assure him that I was fine. I had said it was a nightmare to persuade myself that I was okay, but it seemed that I had not convinced either of us. Dragging myself up, I smile weakly at Maddox who backs away slowly and returns to his work.

 

I begin readying myself, donning my plain clothes for what I believe will be an awkward trip. Samson would have to treat me like every other soldier, more so in front of the other Templars. He couldn't show weakness for any opportunist to exploit. It would be myself, a group of Templars and Samson leading the recruitment. What role would I play? I was unsure. Would I be bait to lure them in? A flash of rage bubbled over at the thought as I recalled Warren's revelation. But I couldn't let that play upon my mind as I already had enough on my plate. And I had to see Damon in the healing tent, satisfy myself that all I had gone over with him had sunk in. The walk toward the healing tent felt strangely longer than usual as that sinking feeling continued to linger, following me like a shadow. As I stepped into the healing tent, I looked over my shoulder as if expecting to be faced with something or someone but no one was there. I took a deep pained breath and waited for the pressure on my chest to lessen. I turned slowly and found Damon standing with his arms folded and his eyes cast to the ground as if waiting for me. Upon hearing me, his eyes darted up and locked on mine, his smile was an uneasy one so I assure him, "Don't worry you will do fine. Do you need me to go over the basics again?"

 

"No, I should be fine. When will you be back?"

 

"Tomorrow evening I would imagine. Hopefully with new recruits," I chimed as if I was a red Templar, hoping our army would grow.

 

There was no trepidation in my words and that worried me, as it almost sounded like I was looking forward to bringing more poor souls into this hell. Shaking my head, I reminded myself of this fact. I was no red Templar and I did not believe in their cause, nor agree with their methods but I couldn't deny that they were not simply the evil bastards they had been made out to be. They were human, and some had lost their way, others lost their minds to blue lyrium, and the red had given them a glimpse of sanity, brought them back for a time. Taking a deep breath I stepped outside the healing tent, leaving a nervous Damon to stand on his own two feet.

 

_I hope I am not making a mistake trusting him._

 

Approaching Samson’s tent, I see a half dozen Templars milling outside. They acknowledge me with a nod before returning to a contemplative silence. All eyes drew upward when Samson stepped out, he may not have been in full armor but he still held an air of command. His stern expression seemed to lead even the most battle-hardened Templar to evade eye contact as if it were disrespectful. This amused me but also gave me an odd sense of pride in his ability to command respect. I merely nodded upon catching his eye. Unlike the others I did not look away, I held his gaze even though it was brief.

 

“Bethan,” Samson called.

 

“Sir?” I replied without a hint of sarcasm.

 

“You will be carrying the equipment.”

 

That was the only instruction he gave and I followed it, knowing he was giving me the grunt work to show no special treatment. Some of the other Templars present laughed to themselves as Samson ordered me to carry the equipment. This irked me but I held my tongue as it was my foolish choice to put myself in this position. I could be hiding out in the healing tent focusing on what had brought me here in the first place instead I had decided this was a better use of my time. I had a million justifications for leaving to aid with the recruitment however I felt the true reason was more about being closer to Samson. I dismissed that thought and continued convincing myself that I was surely not so foolish. I lifted a crate full of heavy supplies and I knew if there was not red lyrium pumping through my veins I would have struggled to carry it. It concerned me to realize the red was starting to get through; my genes could only protect me so far before the stronger lyrium seeped past my body’s defenses. I had to focus on moving forward, as to dwell upon the poison within my system would have me reeling. I had to appear strong, and unfazed.

 

We moved out, some of us laden with supplies, others unburdened but keeping watch upon our surroundings as we moved through the uneven terrain of the forest. No one spoke as we marched, the only sounds were the metallic clinking of blades and thud of our heavy footsteps as we trampled through, the animals of the forest shrunk away from us as if they knew what we were. Maybe they could sense the taint in us, but it was a strange feeling of shame to watch nugs, rabbits and stags yelp upon sight and race away. No one else seemed concerned when even large bears ran from our path; an animal that should have been fearless sped away in terror.

 

The weight of the supplies in my arms led me to sink into the wetland mud. The stark similarity to my nightmare haunted me. Frozen in place, unable to find my voice to call out, I sank slowly deeper into the mud. There was pressure building in my chest, and I found my grip upon the supplies so tight, I could not relinquish it. So I sunk further. There was a blur of motion, I had no idea who had come back for me but I didn’t care. I was free of the mud and desperate to guise the terror that still clung to me in the sweat upon my tempered brow. A loud voice broke through the fog and snapped me back to reality. It was Samson chastising me for falling behind. “You’re slowing us down. Get a move on.”

 

He didn’t even use my name like he had done in the beginning. I didn’t like this dynamic but I knew its necessity. If Samson lost his foothold as a leader, we had no idea who would take his place. Samson was a known quantity and the fewer surprises the better.

 

It was not easy for me to reply, “Yes, sir,” When every part of me wanted to tell him to back off.

 

After what seemed like an age of walking through the forest, we had come to a clearing, large enough to set up a camp. I set up tents as instructed, and once I was finished, I assumed I would be following them into town to aid in the recruitment.

 

Samson stood at the edge of camp and relayed, “Those coming with me to town, you know who you are so ready yourselves. Those remaining at camp be alert for any signs of trouble. We may need you at a moment’s notice.”

 

After he had finished, I assumed he had forgotten to ask or had yet to inform me of my role, so I began to walk forward and I found a male Templar set in my path with a wicked smile upon his gaunt face, “Where do you thinking you’re going, sweetheart?”

 

I gritted my teeth repeating his disrespectful title as if spitting it back out, “Sweetheart?” I glowered at him before I squared up and continued, “Aiding with the recruitment.”

 

“No, I think you will find that we have places to go that aren’t for you. The generals letting us have a little fun and be assured he will be having his own fun. It heartbreaking for you to know it won’t be with you?”

 

I was aware that some knew of the dynamic between Samson, and myself but to hear it still led me to feel a little taken back by it. Lost for words, I stood mouth agape, hoping some smart response would somehow form and tumble out, but nothing. And this led the smug bastard’s smile to widen and left him with the courage to continue taunting me.

 

“Yeah just imagine it while you wait here for us to return. By the time we come back, he won’t remember your name and we can get back on track.”

 

He looked amused by the hurt expression that I attempted to hide but broke through as my body betrayed me. Maybe I was that foolish; to think that there was something between me and Samson. I didn’t wait to see them leave. I took to my tent and waited out the wave of emotion as the last thing I needed or wanted was for anyone, including the Templar goading me, to see my lip tremble with rage and sadness. Taking a deep breath I attempted to calm my nerves. It made me aware of the craving; I wanted red lyrium to sooth the pain, just a little dose would do.

 

_What was I thinking?_

 

I had to work through this uncomfortable feeling on my own, and fight the desperation to take the easier solution. The lyrium would let me forget, but no, I didn’t want to. I had a purpose. It was not easy to fight the urge to turn to the red, as it gave a sense of calm, and strength. These cravings were always there but I had never felt them so keenly before; the restless desperation and the compulsive thoughts were not pushed aside with ease. It left me a little light-headed, so I dropped into a seated position not caring for the jolt to my muscles as I hit the ground. The wave of nausea, I rode out until the world steadied again.

 

Waiting was never my forte, so I left my tent and paced restlessly around the camp, taking guard duty for several shifts just to keep myself busy. I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I may as well be of use. Another full circle of the camp was completed and it was growing dark so I had needed to make a torch to continue to see. The next Templar due to take over the watch marched over to me and curtly stated, “You’re relieved.”

 

“It’s ok, I will take your watch,” I replied flatly.

 

But unlike the others he didn’t rush off without a care he growled and repeated, “You’re relieved.”

 

His glower in the pale torchlight was enough to show me he wasn’t one to be reasoned with, so I walked away and took back to my tent. I lay down on the hard ground; the blanket did little to make it more comfortable. A barely audible rustle near my tent led me to bolt upright and grip the hilt of my sword, ready for anything. A tiny slight elven girl appeared before me. I drew my sword swiftly and held the blade to her throat, “Do you have a death wish?” I hissed.

 

“I was sent,” she stammered, “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged with a panicked look in her eyes.

 

I furrowed my brow and skeptically looked at her. But she didn’t seem dangerous, so I dropped my blade. “I am sorry, but it is dangerous to sneak up on a Templar. Be silent a moment, I want to see if you have alerted the camp to your presence,” I warned her in a hushed tone, not wanting to alert my fellow Templars if we hadn’t already. We waited motionless; the only sound that was clear was her uneven breath. “Now, why are you here?”

 

“I was instructed to come and get you,” she squeaked.

 

“By whom?” I pressed.

 

“I don’t know his name, he just told me to make haste.”

 

“Is someone hurt? Or in trouble?” I continued to stress, as she was not giving me enough information and it was infuriating. “Should I get the others?”

 

“Look, I was told to come and get you. I am starting to think this isn’t worth the bloody trouble.”

 

“I can’t leave the camp unguarded,” I whispered.

 

“There is more than enough here to hold their own.”

 

“But…”

 

“Come on,” she insisted.

 

I was unsure as to whether I should be concerned or annoyed but I had to go. It was a risk but if someone was hurt, the risk was greater to remain in camp. So I followed her lead wearily through the woods, trying to be as silent as possible as not to alert my fellow Templars to my departure. Soon, the camp became distant, the village was in sight and I still had no idea what this was about. Still, I followed her through the streets of the little village down a side alley. I was becoming convinced that she was leading me into an ambush and I placed my hand near to my dagger just in case. But she just knocked upon a door at the rear of a large building. A scantily clad woman answered, she neither seemed shocked or embarrassed by my presence. “Like what you see,” she purred. I smiled awkwardly as she continued, “I can give you a night you won’t forget.”

 

This was the whorehouse. “Why have you brought me here?” I hissed under my breath but loud enough for my elven guide to hear.

 

“You will know soon enough.”

 

It was an ominous statement to make and yet I continued to follow her lead up a set of stairs. She led me to a door, knocked and swiftly departed. I had no time to call after her, she was gone and the door before me opened. Samson was standing before me looking sheepish, not an expression I had seen on him often. “Sir?”

 

“Come in,” he stated as he stepped aside giving me room to pass him.

 

I walked in feeling strange and unsure as to what was going on. But as I looked around the room, I noticed a table set up two glasses, a candle in the middle, “What is this? You obviously have company.” I was flustered.

 

He grumbled and dragged his hand over his face in frustration, “I know I am out of practice with all of this, but you are the company I was expecting. I know it’s not ideal but it is private. Don’t make an old man drink alone,” he smiled.

 

It was nerve-wracking to be alone with Samson; no distractions, no giants. I walked further in and looked into the glass on the table before me, the tense silence was broken by the men and women plying their trade in the other rooms, soft moans became loud cries. This only served to make me uncomfortable and unable to look up as I knew what I wanted, but was it wise? I wanted him, and it had become obvious he shared my feelings but it was the something more I felt that scared me. I cared for him, and the idea of him getting hurt had almost stolen my breath.

  
  
This was so surreal, he had gone to so much trouble to get me alone. It was flattering and sweet but I had to ask a question before I dared to sit down at that table. I had to know if Warren’s claim had any truth to it. I walked over slowly, taking a hand to the offered seat and stopped. I looked him square in the eye and steeled my nerves from the fear of asking if it was true and why I cared so much. "Samson?"

  
  
"Yes, Bethan." It seemed like he tilted his head a little to catch my eye as I attempted to evade eye contact. I was nervous and I stammered, "did you offer me to...recruits as a ploy to join."

  
  
His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "What? You think I would do that...to you?"

  
  
He seemed horrified by the idea. I exhaled and relaxed a bit before replying, "No, but I had to be sure."

  
  
He raised an eyebrow and stated, "Well, I suppose given the way I treated you at first, I can see why you might believe such nonsense. I hate to admit I may have been driven a little by revenge for you not acknowledging me. Childish. I suppose I can just add it to the list of things I am not proud of." He sighed, his eyes looking down as if ashamed. I took his hand in mine in comfort. The warmth of his skin made mine tingle. He looked at my hand upon his and smiled while saying, "Would you sit down? You’re making me nervous."

  
"I make you nervous," I reflected, feeling amused.

  
  
"Don't pretend you don't know. I can't get you out of my mind and believe me, I have tried," he stressed. "I thought I was done with this side of life. Generals aren't supposed to care for their charges...well, not this way."

  
  
"You think I want to care about you? This isn't easy for me either." 

  
  
"So maybe you should take a seat."

  
  
As I sat down, my relief was short-lived as it occurred to me that meant Warren was lying. What in makers name lead him to such a lie? The sound of wine pouring in a glass drew me back to the present moment. 

  
  
"Is this a date Samson?" I smiled as I looked across at him.

  
  
"Ha, sadly this is the best I could do. Safe, and no one will be the wiser. Sorry about the venue but it was the best cover."

  
  
"It was, as you had me believing it. I was furious and jealous."

  
  
He guffawed, spiting his wine in the process. "Don't recall the last time I inspired anything but distaste."

  
  
"Why would you say that? You're a handsome man and a good General. You have their respect.”

 

“We have already established you have bad taste in men. Cullen is a good example.” He shook his head in amused disapproval.

 

The mere mention of Cullen's name led me to feel guilty; my stomach was already in knots. So before he continued talking and ruining the moment. I pulled my chair closer to his and leant forward but caught him at an awkward angle and only managed to kiss his cheek.

 

“What was that for?” 

 

“To stop you ruining the moment,” I stressed.

 

“I think we can do better than that,” he remarked edging closer, placing his wine down on the table. His eyes caught mine and I felt heat course through me. The look was dark and intense. Still, he was slow to act, making the tension run so high that I was on edge with anticipation. His right hand found the back of my neck and squeezed gently, I trembled from the gentle touch of his fingers. He leaned forward and whispered, “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

 

I swallowed at the sound of his breathy words and shivered as his hot breath tickled my ear. “Maker, yes,” I gasped.

 

In a swift motion, he turned and pressed his lips to mine, his grip tightening at the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and lost myself to the passion of the kiss.  As the pressure of his lips grew, I felt his tongue push my lips apart. I groaned as his tongue traced over mine. He broke the kiss breathlessly and looked at me. I was barely catching my own breath when he pulled up slowly, releasing my neck. He took my hand and pulled me up, dragging me against him. It felt so much better to not have the armor in the way; the feel of him against me was amazing. He began to kiss me again, slowly backing me to the wall and pressing me gently to it, Pushing against me with greater urgency as our lips locked with a desperateness born of our need for each other. His soft groans were arousing. He began to grind his hips against me, growling. I felt a familiar throbbing between my legs.

 

To my frustration, he broke the kiss once more, the taste and feel of his lips lingering. He pulled me back towards the table, knocking the wine over to crash to the ground. I was so lost in the moment, the crash sounded distant as he lifted me on to the edge of the table. He wound his hand in my hair and gently pulled my head back, exposing my neck. I moaned as his lips pressed gently against the sensitive skin of my nape and slowly worked his way down to where neck gave way to shoulder. He looked down at my shirt and remarked “This has to go,” as he edged my shirt over my head, and swiftly untied my bra. “Fuck. You look amazing.” I felt my cheeks rush with heat. Being under his unwavering, appreciative gaze, my arms rose in reflex to cover up my chest. His wicked grin widened and he halted my arms. “Don’t do that,” he remarked with ragged breath. Slowly, I dropped my arms, feeling his eyes lingering on my heaving chest.

 

I looked at his shirt and followed his lead, pulling his shirt up and letting him cast it aside. I ran my fingers over his taut shoulders, tracing the scars across his chest. I felt his hand halt mine. “What is it?” I pressed in concern.

 

“No one who meant a thing to me has seen all my scars. It feels strange.”

 

“We all have scars. You’re a warrior. Battle scars are part of the role and I find them sexy.”

 

“You would,” he gave a wolfish smile, “I don’t see a scar on your body and I am drinking in every inch of you for later use.”

 

A blush crossed my cheeks and I nervously remarked, “I make poultices, and had mage friends. But enough talk.”

 

His body was defined by years of training and the scars only made him more appealing. I continued where I had left off and traced over his muscles and scars with a gentle touch. Our lips crashed back together and he forced me back down to the tabletop. His lips left mine once more, beginning a thrilling descent down my neck, lingering for a moment before continuing over my shoulders. I arched my back a little as his lips traced over the swell of my right breast. The nipple was painfully hard. The anticipation was a little overwhelming and I was frustrated by not being able to run my hands over more than his hair and shoulders as he began a slowly making his way down my body. His lips sealed over my right nipple, and he sucked gently. My delighted gasps encouraged him to become more forceful. My soft moans became desperate, loud moans, as the sensations of his touch coursed through my body with waves of pleasure. A small sense of disappointment followed as he released my nipple with a resounding pop. His lips continued their descent until he found the hem of my trousers. He pulled them down slowly, situating himself between my legs. He raised my now bare legs over his shoulders as he knelt down before me. His tongue playfully teased at my slick folds, forcing my hips to buck at the pleasant but sudden sensation. I felt so sensitive to each lap of his tongue, and he seemed to be taking such delight in teasing me until I was gasping and pleading him to take me. He ignored my desperate pleas and continued to bring me to the brink of release before stopping each time I drew so tantalizingly close. I was beginning to curse his name, “Samson, please cease this cruel teasing. Please.”

 

“I have desired to have you like this for some time. I will take my time and enjoy every quiver and desperate plea. My name sounds delicious on your lips.”

 

His words only added to my desire for him. He had a way with his mouth, words, and tongue equally skilled. He forced his tongue inside me and I couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped. My cries only became louder as he feasted upon me. His probing tongue was relentless, and as he brought me to the edge of another heady climax, I expected the cruel withholding of release to continue, but he didn’t stop. The orgasm that wracked my body was mind-blowing. I thrust my hips against his mouth as I rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through my veins before my trembling hips found the solid feel of the wood beneath them once more. He dragged me up and I barely managed the walk to the bed on shaky legs. He lay me down and climbed over me. Pressing the head of his throbbing cock to my folds, he trembled. His eyes locking onto mine, he brushed my hair behind my ear lovingly, placing the gentlest kiss upon my lips before he pushed himself inside slowly, allowing my body to accommodate him; stretch to let him fill me with ease. He set a slow and tentative pace, a sweet smile on his face as he locked eyes with me. This gentle pace became a little frustrating, as I wanted more, but I didn’t want to break our intense gaze, so I met his thrusts with a push of my hips. I loved to see such a wide smile cross his face as if he knew what I wanted, “You want me to fuck you?”

 

I nodded my head enthusiastically but that wasn’t enough as he seductively requested, “I need to hear you say it.”

 

“Fuck me,” I pleaded.

 

He bit his lip as I continued to plead. To silence me, his lips sealed over mine and did not pull away, even when his thrusts became more urgent and forceful. The tantalizing kiss broke only as he fell over his own pleasurable edge and deep guttural groans filled my ear as he came. I could feel his warmth inside me, his cock delightfully pulsing as the aftershocks of his orgasm pulsed through him. He remained inside of me for some time, both of us sweaty and blissfully satisfied.

 

Pulling himself up, Samson dropped down beside me and pulled me into his arms, pressing his lips softly to my forehead. He laughed to himself and quipped, “well those are things you certainly can’t do with whores.”

 

I groaned inwardly and slapped his chest playfully while remarking with annoyance, “Lovely, stop ruining the moment would you.”

 

Still softly laughing to himself, he pulled me closer and pressed his lips to my forehead. A blissfully relaxed silence reigned for some time until he sighed heavily. “Are you okay?” I pressed wondering if the sigh was a sign of regret.

 

“Yes…this is nice,” he replied wistfully.

 

I pulled closer to him and pressed my head against his chest. I did not want to think, I simply wanted to be in his company and enjoy it before thought of consequence sunk in.


	19. Deeper into the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethan feels that she is sinking deeper

I roused to the strange sensation that I was being watched. Opening my eyes slowly, I was greeted by the image Samson wide-awake beside me with a smug grin on his face. He looked happy and I wondered if that was because of my presence or if I had merely satisfied an urge? I yawned and lazily asked, "Were you watching me sleep?"

 

His fingers brushed my cheek gently and his eyes locked on mine. "Yes, you look so peaceful. Adorable almost. I hate that word but it seems to fit."

 

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, as I don’t think any man has ever called me adorable. The gentleness of his gaze made me want to draw closer, and stay here with him in this moment forever but I could not so I was forced to break from his hold, and gaze. I sighed heavily sitting up, "I suppose I will have to return to camp before they notice me gone."

 

"Shame we can’t stay here," he replied wistfully.

 

"What would we be doing if we stayed?"

 

"I don't think I need to tell you that, do I? I would be taking you in every way I could think of."

 

"You're not making a case to leave, are you?" I stated with red deepening upon my cheeks.

 

Samson had such a seductive quality to his voice and smile. Both the predatory one and the sweet one made me nervous for different reasons. He turned me to face him and leaned closer, I instinctively closed my eyes as his lips brushed gently against mine, teasing with soft caresses until my whole body was tingling. He was such a good kisser and the passionate deep kiss that followed as he pressed his body against mine, slowly edging himself on top, had me craving more. He broke the kiss breathlessly and gasped, "Fuck, I am desperate to have you...but this needs to be secret. It's ridiculous, I know, but power calls for the appearance of self-control."

 

I had to force my hips back down and look away from him as I was just as intent to have him but I had to protect his reputation for so many reasons. It was when I let these thoughts enter my mind that my heart lurched, as I needed him in charge to help take him down and now I had made it personal for us both. 

 

_What have I done?_

 

The loving look on his face is now inescapable, and it is heartbreaking to witness; this may be the sliver of humanity left in him and I will be crushing it, along with him. My chest grows tight and I can’t catch my breath. I swiftly pull away and turn the other way so he can't see the torn expression on my face.

 

"We are moving camp to a stronghold in Emprise du Lion."

 

"That frozen wasteland! What in Thedas is there?" I exclaimed.

 

"Don't tell me the cold bothers you?" He teased but held his tongue upon what made Emprise du Lion special.

 

"No, I don't feel the cold."

 

"Even if you did, I could keep you warm," he remarked and I could almost picture the sly smile upon his face.

 

My shoulders dropped as I slouched forward desperate to drop my head into my hands but I didn’t want Samson to ask me what was wrong so kept my back to him resisting the urge to be weighed further down by the despair. So I began berating myself internally, if I had only noticed him back in Kirkwall, maybe this betrayal wouldn't be necessary. But I had to return to camp and hope no one had cared enough to note my absence. It felt strange to want to remain with Samson given the knife I would be plunging into his back at some point. I swallowed thickly and reminded myself why it was necessary, but that only reminded me that getting this close had not been part of the plan. My own foolish emotions had clouded my judgment and now I was in deep; mired in a mess I could no longer escape. I dragged myself out of the bed and cleaned myself up. I wanted to exit swiftly without a second look to Samson, but an insistent pull upon my arm dragged me back and once again I was face to face with him, an uneasy smile upon his lips. "You aren't regretting this are you?" 

 

"No," I gasped, it was half true, "It just feels a little foolish to run around like teenagers hiding our..."

 

His left brow raised and he quipped, "Don't know what to call it yet hmm, as it is rather early but I suppose that depends on whether the year of pining after you counted,” he laughed, “I understand what you mean though; I’m too old for this blood nonsense. It's a shame it has to be like this, but you know we can’t flaunt such a relationship given my rank and standing."

 

"That a reminder that I am sleeping with the General?" I mocked to avoid the sentiment in his eyes. 

 

"I’d like to remain as such, and given your love of power..."

 

"It is more than that Samson," I assured him, knowing my words were worthless. The guilt festered in every loving gesture and glance. "I have to go," I said, my chest tight.

 

"I will see you like this again soon, I hope." He remarked to my back. I couldn't return his sentiment so I just turned and smiled weakly.

 

I was relieved and saddened to leave his company, but my focus remained on making my way back quickly. The sun was yet to fully grace the sky; the light dull as I followed the same cautious path the Elven girl had led me upon. Before I made it back to the makeshift camp, I heard the piercing cry of an incessant crow as if a reminder as to how long it had been since I had informed the inquisition of our movements, this only added to my heavy conscience but I managed to quickly make note of our next move, and attach it to the waiting crow. It had been too long since my last message that I had almost convinced myself I was actually a Red Templar; that I wasn't leading two lives. Watching the crow fly away I envied the bird its freedom to fly away. I longed to leave the confusing place I had begun to sink into, and I feared it would be too late to come back from all I had done, the times I had held back as a silent witness to horrors. I dragged my feet as I forced myself to continue the rest of the way back to the camp, looking about me I assured myself no keen eyes were upon me, once I was sure I slunk back into my tent, not realizing how tired I was until I dropped to the ground, and felt a wave of exhaustion take me.

 

My reprieve was sadly short-lived, rudely interrupted by a foot pressing against my shoulder. I looked up and saw the same abrupt Templar who had chased me off from doing his watch at camp last night glaring down at me, "Get up sleeping beauty, we need to get moving."

 

I groaned in frustration, jerking my shoulder from under his foot. I smiled faintly as he struggled to regain his balance before he stormed off unable to meet my amused gaze. I dragged myself out of my bedroll, feeling drained. My blissful doze and moment with Samson seemed but a distant memory. My mind was now fraught with how complicated I had made this, and how deep I had chosen to delve into the world of the Red Templars. Stepping outside my tent, I could see the Templars from town filtering back in amongst their brethren, with both willing and less than willing recruits in tow. A wide-eyed boy among them must have felt my gaze as he turned, and the terror in his eyes was harrowing to witness. I could tell he didn't want this, and now he trapped. I was torn up as I wanted to save him from his fate but if I did so, I would be revealed. Some days I wondered if being found out wouldn’t be so bad, as it would be over, but perhaps I didn’t want it to end. Perhaps I wanted to stay.

 

I had to shake my head and break the sorrowful stare, his pleading eyes were too much for me to take. Breaking his gaze my eyes fell to Samson who gave me secret grin; a grin for me alone. It was no easier to look upon it, as soon I would have to turn upon him and glean information from him in order to aid the Inquisition.

 

We all aided in packing up the makeshift camp, but once again I was laden with the supplies to hold the appearance that I wasn’t being treated any better than my fellow Templars. It was no struggle to carry them back to our base camp and I was glad of them for blocking my view of the new recruits but that didn’t stop me being able to hear the whimpers or the cries and struggles of those still fighting their fate. My heart sank, as their sorrow made the journey seem to take an age. I was glad no one could see or sense how torn up I was, relief flooded me as I was finally able to put down the supplies and turn away. Still, the sickly feeling lingered as I knew the new recruits were there, and now they were to be force-fed lyrium. I had no wish to witness such horrors, so I rushed toward the healing tent hoping to find solace in my work. As I drew near to the healing tent, a familiar, pungent smell burned my nose. I raced in holding a hand over my mouth and nose, which provided little protection from the poison now fouling the air. As I stepped in, I could see three unfortunate Templars on cots, lying still with no detectable breathing. Damon was staggering and I moved swiftly to catch him before he fell. I pulled him outside the tent into the clean air and tried to rouse him by holding his face, gently shaking him. "Stay with me,” I ordered.

 

His eyes flickered and his head lolled back. He was fading fast, so I threw him over my shoulder and got him into my tent with ease. Dropping him on my cot, I forced his eyes open with my fingers to make sure his pupils were responsive and his eyes weren't bloody. He was clear, so there was a chance to help him before it was too late. I raided my stash of herbs; it would take a different poison to counteract the poison working its way into his bloodstream. I would have to brew it in here. At that moment I was thankful to be sharing a tent with Maddox as I would need help, I turned around to find him looking at armor intently, "Maddox, I need your help. I need a burner to brew this potion as fast as possible, time is of the essence."

 

I didn't need to say another word; he was quick to get me what I asked for and followed my instructions to the letter as I brewed the poison. Once the smell and color turned I knew it was ready. "Help me lift him. We need to get him to drink this."

 

Maddox propped Damon up and held him in place. I tilted his head, and opened his lips, pouring the poison down his throat. Now it would be a matter of waiting for Damon to come to, and hoping that there would be no lasting damage, as the red lyrium would either work in his favor or against him depending on how it had affected his system. I hated waiting; pacing back and forth, watching Damon's chest rise and fall in a strained manner, but the sight assured me he lived and his body was fighting still. It felt like an age before he opened his eyes, and I pulled back as I knew what followed. As expected he threw up. The first poison was counteracted by the second, but it often left people nauseous for a time. He dropped back down, sweat leaving his hair clinging to his brow He looked dazed and confused. I pressed, "What happened?"

 

I knew it was unfair to press him but if he had unwittingly made poison, I had to know if he had given it to any others before time ran out to do something about it. "I don't know," he slurred.

 

He was still too hazy to remember. I knew I had no choice that I would have to turn to Samson. I feared he would remind me this was on me but losing face was preferable to loss of life, so I turned to Maddox. "Can you watch over him?"

 

He barely nodded but I knew he would do as I asked. I ran toward Samson's tent and as I dashed in unannounced I declared to a startled Samson behind his desk, "Sir, we have a problem. There may be poisoned Templars in the ranks. Everyone must be rounded up so I can do what can be done about it..."

 

"How did poison make it into the camp?" he pressed as he rounded the table.

 

"The primary concern should be those I can save. Blame can wait."

 

"I told you not to trust him. This is on your head," he warned.

 

I couldn’t let my thoughts get away from me now. I had to focus on what could be done for those who were poisoned. "I know that. Let me do what I can to stop this spiraling."

 

Samson managed to round up the camp with an amazing expedience; one word form him and all the Templars were milling about the training field, looking confused. "Anyone who has received any potions from the healing tent in the past day, please come with me."

 

I was glad to see the number of Templars to step forward was few; but still, there was still a dozen of them to treat. Most of them didn't appear symptomatic but the smell of poison lingered and fouled their breath. I wondered if there were Templars in their tents suffering a slow painful death due to the new poison introduced into their systems but I could only work with what I knew and those in front of me. Samson followed after us to keep watch. The treatments passed in a blur, each Templar receiving a dose with the aid of Maddox. They seemed more wary of him than me but Samson kept them in line with a simple warning glare if they even so much as looked at Maddox the wrong way. Once the final Templar left my tent, I slumped down to the ground and dropped my head into my hands. I felt an armed glove press upon my shoulder. I looked up through blurred vision but once it cleared, and the tears rolled free I saw Samson, with a saddened expression upon his face. I declared, "I thought he could handle it. I was so sure..." 

 

_Was I? Or was I more interested in time with Samson?_

 

My thoughts were cruel and accusing, but Samson was not reprimanding my foolish actions, he was comforting me. "I know. You made a mistake; sadly it happens to all those in command or a mentor role. It will not be your first or your last but learn from it...the concern now will be Damon's safety as they will be looking for someone to blame."

 

"But I got to them in time, didn't I?"

 

"No, I am Sorry,” he sighed heavily, turning to survey our surroundings before his eyes once again met mine again, he then cupped my face in his hands. Wiping the tears away from my cheeks gently with his thumbs, his eyes looked sad, “it appears there were those in the healing tent itself and three more in their beds,” he urged my chin up as my eyes dropped from his as the shame and guilt of their deaths hit me. Samson edged my head back until I was forced to meet his gaze but there was nothing cold, or harsh there, his eyes were gentle even as he warned, “they will call for his head.”

 

I knew he didn’t have to be doing any of this. Had I been just another Templar he would have been reading me the riot act. It was clear in his eyes that he was truly conflicted by the effect our relationship was having upon him. After a long silence, I asked, "Will you give it to them?"

 

He shook his head and looked to the ground before meeting my gaze once more and adding, "I do not believe his death will resolve anything but I am warning you nonetheless. I will have Cruise guard your tent."

 

With a cautious glance around he turned back to me and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Do not do anything foolish,” he pleaded in a whisper before he released my face and stood.

 

I looked up and nodded, although I was starting to believe that foolish action was all I was capable of.  As I watched Samson leave I found I was desperate to beg him to stay but I held my tongue. Sighing heavily I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders. The guilt pained my stomach, and the anger put pressure upon my chest. I was angry at Damon for his stupidity. I was angry at myself for trusting him and putting him in that position in the first place. The night was spent in a daze, sleeping for mere minutes at a time, jolting up to check no one had snuck in to hurt Damon. Cruise was standing outside, his heavy breathing lets me know he was still there and no one had hurt him to get to Damon. When morning came and my eyes opened next, Damon was awake. He looked a little pale and shaky. That was to be expected with so many poisons in his system at once. His strength would return but my confidence was shot and I felt responsible for his actions; more deaths upon my already laden conscience. Damon's eyes avoided me as if he knew his mistake and it made him unable to meet my gaze. "Damon?"

 

"Yes, Bethan?" he stammered.

 

"You're lucky to be alive," I remarked in annoyance and relief.

 

"I know...I..." his words trailed off and his eyes once again dropped to the ground.

 

"You will have to stay here under guard," I informed him curtly.

 

"Why?" he exclaimed.

 

"The camp is in an uproar. They are calling for your head," I warned him, taking no joy in telling him this and watching his face drop with the impact of my words.

 

"But, it was a mistake," he desperately tried to assure himself.

 

"Your mistake led to six deaths. I would have been more had I not realized upon my return," I pressed so he would understand the gravity of the situation.

 

"What do I do now?" he looked down at me with a sullen look.

 

"For now stay with me, and we will figure out where to go from there. I would suggest you rest and recover. I will watch over you," I assured him.

 

I wanted to yell and scream at him for his stupidity, but what good would that do him, or myself now, so I once again held my tongue. He slumped back on to my cot and turned away from me, unable to look at me any longer. Maybe the guilt and shame was starting to take hold in his poison-addled mind. He fell into an uneasy slumber quickly. With labored breathing, he shifted in his sleep. I wondered if nightmarish images were plaguing him, causing him to toss and turn. It was a strange mix of emotions, entrusting someone with responsibility and them then failing. It felt so much like my own failure. I had rushed the poor boy into this. He clearly hadn’t been ready and didn’t belong here, but still, I had left him in charge. Those Templars would be alive had they been in my care. As I watched him, I felt rage bubble within me that made me want to strangle him for not listening to me; I had asked him if he needed me to run through it once more. The instructions couldn’t have been simpler, the warnings couldn’t have been clearer, and yet the damn fool still managed to create a poison instead of the required potion. Maybe my instinct to drag him out was ill-advised. Maybe it would have been easier for all involved if I had just let the poison take him; some kind of twisted justice in retribution of his shortcoming. But still, I stayed at his bedside ready to protect him. This was so frustrating. It left me wondering if my life had ever been simple and truly I could not recall a time when it had been. Slumping down at his bedside, I looked toward the entrance to my tent and watched Cruise pacing outside. For a moment, I saw the man Cruise had once been and it saddened me. I closed my eyes only to free the fresh tears burning my eyes.

 

Jolting back to consciousness, I jumped up and turned to see Damon was gone. I panicked and rushed outside to find him surrounded by a group of furious Templars. He looked terrified. Breaking into the middle of the group I demanded, "Back off now."

 

I pulled Damon to me and tried my best to shield him from them. The tallest of the group glared menacingly at me and spat, “Oh, you would protect the little rat? He killed my best friend, known him all my bloody life and this damn fool snuffs him out with a damned fuck up. He is a dead man, you can’t stop all of us."

 

"Try me," I hissed, squaring up to him and knowing I would take a few down with me before I was overwhelmed.

 

The fury burning in his eyes was intense but I held his gaze. The anger did not relent but for now, he backed down. I turned to Damon only in time to see his head cleaved from his shoulders, his blood splattered across my face. I was frozen in shock. It didn't feel real even as I watched his headless body drop to the ground and his head dangling in front of me. I couldn’t catch my breath. Shaking, I slowly looked up expecting to see a Templar with a proud and sickly grin across his face but the being that towered over me now was not human. He had a monstrous visage and build; lyrium protruded from his slender body and distorted face. When I met his cold dead gaze, I realized that this had to be Corypheus. I had not seen him until now and he was terrifying to behold. My eyes dropped back to the lifeless eyes of Damon’s head with the beast’s claw-like fingers in his hair. I could hear dripping and felt the warmth spreading across my toes. I dropped my gaze and saw Damon’s blood pooling on the ground and leaking into my boot. The sticky sensation nauseated me. My body still refused to move and despite the urge to rage at Corypheus, what remained of my rational mind knew that defiance against him would call my loyalty into question. My irrational mind was still aghast at the sight of Damon’s severed head and shocked at the swiftness of the action. I had not seen, nor heard him approach. I just stood there, desperate to scream, wanting to cry but all I could do was stare wide-eyed with my mouth agape as if compelled to silence and inaction.

 

The only thing Corypheus said, in a commanding raspy voice, was, "Consider this justice and I will hear no more of it."

 

The Templars that had gathered cheered. I was still dazed and appeared to be the only horrified by his actions, his presence, and the violent end poor Damon had just met at this Darkspawn’s hand.  


End file.
